I Remember, Don't You?
by Wolf Of Legends
Summary: After a near death experience and it's following circumstances, Wilson goes to John Hopkins University as a last ditch effort for Med school. There he meets a character like he's never known. Stretches from Med school to beyond Season 4. Slash h/w
1. Prologue

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**_PROLOGUE_**

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College life.

It's a time in a young person's life when they get to leave the nest and live away from home and parents. A place and time where they still have a list of rules that they will follow (sometimes), but gets to experience a new sense of freedom like never before. There were young adults that found the experience scary, some that found it to be a welcome mat to paradise, and then there were some that found it to be some sort of middle ground.

This is where James Wilson stood. He was sad to be leaving home, his family and his well-structured life but was excited to experience what it was like to be on his own, to run into his own problems and fix them on his own as well. This would be fine for some people, annoying to others being that they had more dreadful school to face... but James was different. He was an A student, an avid scholar with a unique love for school. This alone would play heavily in his favor. Wanting to get his undergraduates degree as quickly as possible, James also took courses over the summer with the holidays playing in as a poor substitute.

His years at McGill went by so quickly when thinking back the memory was almost a blur. To James, with all his hard work and studying they were a breeze. Sure, like some students, he stressed when exams came along and would sometimes question his knowledge on whichever subject he was going to be tested on, but all his worry would be for naught when those bright and shining grades would show themselves on his papers.

Graduation was as much a sweet victory as it's always been but even more so this time around. To James holding a college diploma gave such a rush that he almost couldn't imagine how it would feel to hold his medical degree with the title M.D. following his name. The thought was dizzying and he couldn't wait.

But even though James loved school and with his thirst for knowledge still running as strong as ever, this would be the first summer he would welcome with open arms since he started college. Time off meant he could spend time with his family and relax like he had wanted to do for years. He hadn't gotten a consecutive three months off since he graduated high school. But he knew that sometimes you had to sacrifice things in order to achieve your dreams.

But his first day home James quickly learned that happenings at home weren't as pleasant as they had first appeared. His parent, Jack and Hazel, greeted their son with the same excitement as they always had and his younger brother, Michael, made sure to greet his favorite brother with the same boisterous playfulness that always left James glad to be home and close to his family once again. It felt like the first time in ages that he and Michael could play around and be boys during the summer break. As funny as it sounded, he and Michael had a lot of catching up to do.

But when James asked about his older brother, David, he immediately sensed that something was amiss. With the strength of any father, Jack tried to gently break it to him the events that he had been missing while off in college. He learned that somewhere along the way David had gotten hooked on meth and had dropped out of school without telling anyone. James felt hurt that his family would keep something like this from him but also understood how they didn't want him to worry about things at home when he was working to hard in school.

But what seemed to make things even worse was that no one knew where to find David. The sudden black sheep of the family managed to hide himself away until he needed money for food or more likely his new habit. The though of his older brother living god knows were dealing with meth scared James like never before. He wondered how he acted and how he looked. He was also afraid to think about how much his best friend had now changed.

The first month or so of his vacation time went well enough. James was just happy to sit back and soak everything in. Being home made him realize how much he missed his family while he was on his crazy college binge. He had put much thought into what he was going to do from now on, being that he was going to med school and opted to take his summers and hold onto them the best he could. You don't realize how much things change until you've been gone for a while.

But even the best of times tend to go sour from time to time and it was in his second month of vacationing when that fact would make itself evident. The day started out as a calm one as James laid stretched out in his bed as he searched for something good to watch on TV, but things were quickly put on hold when the sounds of arguing reached his ears from the downstairs. He quickly lowered the volume of the TV and listened. Though he couldn't make out what was being said it only took a second for him to recognize both voices. It was his father and uncle and they were fighting.

By this point the arguing had gotten so bad that it sounded like each of them was out for blood. He was surprised. Sure his father and uncle would fight about silly things like any brothers do, but never in all his time had he ever heard them fight like this. What in the world could make them so heated toward each other? James quickly decided that it was in his best interest to keep out of sight until things cooled off, otherwise he would just be asking to be dragged in.

With the TV off and his bedroom silent, James hung onto every noise and sound he could make out and those he couldn't. Not expecting the loud clash, he flinched when he heard the front door slam shut. Things were suddenly silent. He strained his ears to pick anything else and wondered if the fight had been taken outside. Now it was time to investigate.

Quickly and quietly he made his way downstairs and into the kitchen with the stealth that would make even James Bond proud. Silently he slipped out the back door and stepped softly around the house. He didn't hear any shouting or fighting going on in the front yard and when he peeked around to corner saw none either.

In fact he didn't see anyone.

Surely someone had gone outside. Why else would the front door be slammed? Clearly his Uncle Thomas was still around being that his car was still sitting parked in the driveway. But where? Curiously, James made his way to the car and took a glance inside. It was then he noticed his Uncle nearly a block down the road walking. He should have known. Thomas always liked to go for a walk when he was upset. He always said it was the best way to cool himself down.

"Uncle Thomas!" He called out and took off down the sidewalk after his uncle. He just had to know what could get there two to fight so fiercely so he would never happen to stumble upon the subject by accident.

When Thomas heard nephew calling he turned and waited for him to catch up. Once he got there James was nearly out of breath. "Hey, Jim, I didn't realize you were home. What's up?" Thomas tried to play as if everything was fine and alright. He didn't want to concern his nephew about he and his brother's disagreements.

James still fought to catch his breath. "I… I came to ask you that." He huffed. "What's up with you and dad?"

Thomas gave his nephew a weak smile and patted his shoulder. "Well, we had a talk about something your father's been in denial about for years." Brown eyes stared curiously at dark hazel eyes willing him to continue. Staring at his nephew, Thomas suddenly realized he wasn't a young boy anymore; he was an adult and had been for a while now. Even though all of this was between him and his father, Thomas thought he could at least give James some advise that could prove useful that he wished someone had told him. "Jim, I want you to promise me something, okay?" He nodded. "No matter what, don't let anyone… and I mean _anyone_ come between you and how you want to live your life, alright?" James had no clue where this was coming from. "No matter what you want or who you fall in love with there's always going to be someone who's not going to like it, and even dislike you for it. Sometimes they'll even try to ruin it for you. Don't let it stop you from being who you are, okay?" His uncle was practically begging him this.

"Uhh, Of course, Uncle Thomas.. Sure." He answered with a nod and a confused stare. Seeing that his nephew had no idea what he was going on about, Thomas shook his head with a chuckle and a pat on James' back.

"You'll understand. Well, I should be getting back. I need to pick Max up from his mother's." Nothing more was said between the two as they walked back to Thomas' car save for their goodbyes. It wouldn't be for a week later that James would finally find out what his father and uncle had been fighting about.

It turned out that his uncle Thomas was moving down south to be with his boyfriend and had come to the Wilson household to tell his only brother of his decision. It was this that had thrown his father into a rage. Turned out the news of his brother being queer didn't go as well as hoped. Thomas even commented that his brother had been turning a blind eye to the situation for years and refused to believe it. James had no idea his uncle was gay. Hell, Thomas even had a kid!

The shouting and yelling that day was the sounds of the normally kind and family oriented Jack tossing his very flesh and blood, his only brother out of his house and home because he was in love with another man and was going to move across country to be with him. In the early 90's, Jack was like many other people who found this lifestyle to be a vile and horrific way to live. A man to be with a man was a sin against God. Could someone be more disgusting?

James hated that his father felt the way he did. He knew and understood that people couldn't choose who they fell in love with. Be it man or woman it was something that just happened. Of course, who you fall in love with depended on what you're attracted to and this was true for James as well.

James thought women were beautiful and mysterious creatures that were always quick to get his attention. He yearned to one day meet the woman of his dreams and get married, have kids, live in a nice house and watch his kids have kids of their own and so on. The straight man's dream. But there was one catch that made the ideal picture a little crooked. Whereas it seemed women would get most of James' attention there _was_ the occasional good looking fellow that would pass by and have James' full and undivided attention. Though this didn't happen too often, it did happen. He actually realized this when he was watching some old films on TV and the 1951 film _An American in Paris_ came on.

He was busy cleaning and not really paying too much attention to the TV, but listening to the story. The whole time the film had been playing he hardly even looked at the screen. Even when beautifully lyrical voice of the lead actor started to sing I Got Rhythm mixed in French and English with a flock of children he still didn't pay any extra attention. It was originally the sound of those tap shoes that finally got him to look up. James had developed a strange love for tap dancing when he began to take lessons as an early teen and to that day but in an instant more fuel was quickly added to that fire with one look at those brown eyes and a glimpse of the sweet and playful boyish charms of Gene Kelly.

Without realizing it, James had stopped what he was doing and quickly became engrossed with the movie. Turned out that James had happened upon a Gene Kelly Marathon one of the TV networks were playing and was in the middle of showing a handful of his films. But it wasn't until the third one he started realized that he wasn't watching the movies for the kindhearted romantic storylines but for the handsome and romantic Gene Kelly himself.

Oh, he felt embarrassed and ashamed. How could he, a boy who was so attracted to women, be attracted in that same sense to Gene Kelly? This would just have to be one of those little secrets he kept to himself. But ever since then he noticed that there were men that _did_ catch his fancy. Though he never acted upon his feelings, he still found them to be awkward and confusing and made sure to keep them to himself.

The setback with his Uncle Thomas being cast out seemed not the only obstacle that the summer was looking to throw at him. It just so happened that James would see his older brother before he got back to med school. It just wouldn't be in the way he had hoped. And even though James had been warned about David's recent unpredictable behavior, nothing could have prepared him for what was going to happen next.

Some time later, James was at home by himself enjoying a crossword puzzle at his leisure as he waited for something good to come on TV. Michael was out with some friends and his parents were off at a restaurant taking pleasure in each other's company. Everything seemed quiet and calm, but in the blink of an eye the serene and relaxed atmosphere was suddenly cast out entirely with a swing of his bedroom door.

James' eyes quickly darted to the sound as his heart pound in his chest from the unexpected scare. There standing in his doorway with his brown hair greasy and dark blue eyes was David. James suddenly became inexplicably nervous. He had wished that he would have someone else with him when David turned up at the house but it seemed that not everything was going to go the way he wished it could have. "Hey, Jimmy, it's been forever since I've seen you."

"H-hi, D." He was so nervous it was hard for him to control his voice completely. It wasn't like David to just barge in with no regard into his room like that. James put down his crossword puzzle and slowly stood. When he got to his feet he was able to get a better look at his brother. His clothes were filthy, like he had been wearing them for days and it didn't look he had seen a bath or shaved in the same amount of time. He was thin and his eyes were darting about the room. "D, you look… terrible."

"As blunt as always, eh, Jimmy? That's no way to greet your brother." He grinned. Something about this didn't seem right to James. He did his best to stay on his toes.

"Yeah, well, hard habit to break." He offered with a nervous laugh.

"It's good to see you." And just like that, the eerie mood of the situation changed. David's blue eyes narrowed darkly. "Wait, who are you?"

James suddenly was no longer nervous; he was scared. "D, it's me."

"Where's Jimmy?" David's voice was now dark and edgy.

_Why now?_ James' mind asked. "David, I'm right here." His voice became shaker as his fear stared to rise more and more with each passing second. He took a step away from his brother.

But David walked closer. "You're not Jimmy, what did you do with him?"

"David, pl-"

"WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO WITH JIMMY?!" He yelled loudly, quickly cutting James off. "YOU'RE WITH THEM, AREN'T YOU?! YOU TOOK JIMMY, DIDN'T YOU?!" James couldn't put into words the fear that rushed at him when he saw David pull a knife from his pocket and flicked the long, three inch blade out, making it glint in the light. What made it worse was the way he held the blade defensively toward James, his eyes narrowed harshly.

With his emotions running wild James didn't know what to do as he stood frozen with fear. This man was his brother, the one he'd always looked up to, the one he'd mimic when he was a small boy. Now his own flesh and blood seemed ready to kill him because he thought he was trying to protect him.

David was going to save him by killing him.

All the while James couldn't get his body to do a thing. He was a deer caught in headlights and his mind couldn't seem to process the immense danger he was suddenly in. The fact that the very person he looked up to as a kid was ready to kill him in his own room was hard to conceive. Before he knew it, David had shot forward and grabbed him and held an arm hard against his chest as he held him tight against him. It was the cold metal of the blade pressed hard to his neck that brought him back to his senses, but by then it was too late. "Now tell me what the fuck you did with Jimmy?!" His grip on his younger brother seemed to get tighter as the blade was held even more firmly to his throat.

"David, please, it's me. I'm Jimmy-" he tried to cry out.

"STOP LYING!!" James did his best to resist the urge to swallow as he felt the blade press harder against the soft skin of his throat. "TELL ME WHAT YOU DID TO JIMMY OR I'LL-"

"DAVID!! LET GO OF HIM!!!" It seemed that someone somewhere was looking out for James with his saving grace coming in the form of the youngest Wilson boy.

Michael rushed in and tried to pull his crazed brother off James causing the oldest boy to loosen his grip. So sure that this was his only chance to escape, James quickly tried to get free and turned himself around to where he was now facing David. Sensing that his prey was trying to flee, out of reflex David bared down on the blade with it slicing into the back and side of James' neck.

It was only when David noticed the red stickiness of blood seeping from his brother's neck and onto his hand things quickly turned and the harsh gruesomeness of reality hit him; scaring him. He dropped the knife and James in shock with them both clambering onto the floor.

Michael was quickly at his injured brother's side and pulled off his own t-shirt and pressed it hard onto the gash with James letting out a loud hiss of pain. Michael grabbed the knife with one hand and held it defensively toward his eldest brother while he tried to hold the pressure steady against the gash with his other.

"David, get the fuck out of here! _NOW_!" He seemed rooted to where he stood. Seeing the sight before him David was too shocked to move as he realized what he had just done. "David, if you don't leave I might do something I'll regret! Get the hell _out_!" The fire in Michael's eyes was reason enough for him to listen and just like that, David was gone.

Michael had no intention of trying to stop David or keeping him from getting in trouble. He was just telling him to leave to make sure James wouldn't be in harms way any longer. Michael had no time to check and make sure he had fled completely. His main priority was James; who was currently bleeding at his feet.

"Oh my God, Jimmy, hold on!"

Michael began to fight with himself on what to do when his eyes came to land on the phone sitting on the nightstand. He didn't want to take the pressure off his brother's wound but he had to get to a phone. After much debate Michael did the only thing he knew he could. He took James' hand and put it in place of his own and applied the same pressure he had been putting before over James' hand. With a voice welled with worry he told James to keep the pressure to the wound. James did the best he could as Michael rushed off to the phone and dialed 911.

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There's nothing more frightening than getting a phone call at the restaurant where you're dining and hearing that your son was in the hospital because someone sliced his throat. The only way it could get any worse is to hear from your youngest that it was your eldest son that held the knife to his younger brother's throat. To know that your own son came centimeters from killing his own flesh and blood because he was too strung out on drugs was heartbreaking. It was a pain that no parent should ever have to go through.

Though the majority of the Wilson clan wasn't so keen on seeing their son/brother for a long while, James wanted answers. When he was deemed well enough to get around and out of bed, he started looking for David. He immediately started looking into the more dangerous parts of town asking around for his brother and he showed everyone he spoke to a picture of David.

His search went on for three weeks as he looked high and low but with no luck. It was like the man had just up and disappeared like a whisper in the wind. In all the excitement of trying to find David and getting better, James had forgotten about the registration date for Columbia University. He felt sick to his stomach when he finally remembered and quickly called the Columbia University College of Physicians and Surgeons registration office to find out the due date.

But to his dismay he listened as the woman on the line told him it was last week. _This can't be happening._ James thought, _not after everything else._ It was unbelievable. How could something like this happen to a man who seemed to have everything going for him? He was going to be a doctor! He was going to be someone great. Now it seemed like all his hard work was for naught.

It really wasn't as bad as James was making it out to be. Sure, it looked like he might have to either take some time off before he went back to Med School and just waited until he could register or find another college. It was not the end of the world.

..no matter what James said.

Always wanting the best for his son, Jack tried to think of a way to help James out. If there was one thing the Wilson family knew; it was that helping family was key. So doing his best to brainstorm on just how he could help, Jack was suddenly hit with a brilliant idea only a few days later.

He quickly called his wife from work about it. He asked if her sister's husband was still working for the administrations department for John Hopkins University. Hearing that he still did, Jack immediately went to work on researching how well their medical training facilities were. He was elated to learn that their school of medicine was widely regarded as one of the best medical schools in the world. Jack was suddenly starting to think that maybe James missing his original registration date may have been a blessing in disguise. Going to John Hopkins James would still be close to home and would be going to one of the best medical training facilities in the world.

Still not telling his son what he was up to; Jack gave his brother-in-law a call and talked about getting James into the school. Though the registration date was closed for this university as well; it seemed that by being in charge of registration with the university in Baltimore he could pull a few strings and be able to get James into the school… quietly and under the table; that is.

Once he got the green light, Jack quickly related the good news to his son making sure to keep quiet about all the under the table business. It was only after much thought James figured that it was an alright plan. He'd do his first year at John Hopkins University's School of Medicine then transfer over to Columbia University's College of Physicians and Surgeons the next year and finish out his other years of med school there like he had originally planned. In no way would it have stopped him, but if only he had known what that one year at John Hopkins had in store for him. If he had known he could have braced himself just a little bit for the impact, because that one year would change his view of everything.

Especially himself.


	2. Med School and the Blue Eyed Pianist

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**_CHAPTER ONE:_**_ Med School and the Blue Eyed Pianist_

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Med school was certainly as charming and intriguing as James thought it would be. He discovered that it was indeed tougher than his undergraduates' degree but in return was so much more exciting. To learn about the human body and how it worked on a regular basis was amazing and the work that went into everyday things such as breathing, eating, walking or even sleeping was absolutely mind blowing. The fact that your brain had an extreme complexity and was able to take on the tasks of getting you to blink or breathe and allowed you to do these things while you were sleeping or watching TV without a single thought was just astounding. It was the way the heart brought blood all over your body like a pump, the way your stomach and intestines worked together to break down what you eat and take in all the nutrients and how your liver, spleen, gallbladder and kidneys all work to cleanse and filter various parts of the body. All of it was a treasure trove of information that confirmed James' lifelong suspicion that being a medical doctor was what he was destined for.

Always wanting to help their son, his parents would send a monthly allowance generous enough that he could afford a nice and cozy studio apartment just on the outskirts of the campus. James knew he was very fortunate to have a family that was not only on the on the higher end of middle class, but knew how to keep hold of their money. With his father being a dentist and paired with the strong belief that saving your money paid off in the long run James didn't have to fill out those endless forms for financial aid.

There was one downside to James and his love for school. Even though he was as kind and charming as he had ever been, it was often his school work that got more attention than his social life. This fact truly showed when after three months in and he still didn't really have a friend that he talked to outside of class. Always wanting to look like the stronger son of the family he did his best to hide his loneliness.

James had always been a rather social person and to have no one to talk to on an everyday basis was definitely different than what he had grown accustom to back at McGill. Back then he had a roommate named Vinnie and even though the two didn't have a great deal in common it was nice just to have someone to talk to at the end of the day. And as if a way to help him cope, he often told himself that he would have plenty of time for friends after he was done with med school.

Though he didn't have a friend to help him forget his troubles that didn't mean he couldn't keep himself occupied. Be it TV, a book, crossword puzzle or even going to the park there was always something to do. He knew there were a few places he could go to in town but some were a little awkward to go to alone. If it was a nice day James could often be found in the park on his free time watching people or visiting the animals in the small petting zoo. Another place he enjoyed to spend his time was a quaint little café called _Bon Café_.

They had the best coffee in town, their cappuccinos were delicious and their desserts always managed to hit the spot whenever he was craving something sweet. Their lunch and dinner menu were good and fine, but often found himself leaning more toward the desserts. And sure enough It wasn't long before it wasn't just the good coffee and sweets that lured James over but the relaxed atmosphere. It was a place he could go and relax with people around and have a coffee or a piece of cake or something else just as sweet while he read his book or worked on his homework.

Today was one of those days where James just wanted to sit back and relax. He sat quietly while drinking his coffee and worked on one of those crossword puzzles he loved so much when something on the other side of the room got his attention. Something James had a knack for was working on whatever task was in front of him without getting distracted while listening or paying some attention to what was going on around him.

"This isn't what I ordered; I ordered the BLT, not chicken strips!" A woman snapped at the waiter that had delivered the ordered to their table.

The waiter looked aloof and uncaring. "Sorry, but this is what you ordered."

"No, it's not." Just as curious as anyone else, James glanced from his crossword to get a look at what was happening. If a fight was about to break loose he wanted to watch.

He stared as the tall waiter wearing a uniform consisting of a red shirt with black pants and a small black apron around his waist shoved his hand into one the apron pockets and pulled out his order pad. "Let's see, I have here that you ordered and I quote," as if in an attempt to make things more dramatic he loudly cleared his throat, "_number four with a side of onion rings and a diet coke_." He looked up from the pad and shot her an annoyed glare.

"Yes, that's right. I ordered a number _four_." Her tone matched that of the waiters'. But her expression quickly went from annoyed to surprise as the waiter went to another table and snatched a menu and practically shoved it in her face.

"Okay, fine! You ordered a number four, I know, I wrote it down!" He announced with mock kindness that was dripping with sarcasm, "But do me a favor and tell me what number four is on the menu." He could have been nice about it, James thought. He could have kindly said that number four was indeed chicken strips and that she simply read the menu wrong. Seems this guy could dish out as good as he could take it.

Still so sure she was right, she started out loud and clear. "Lunch Menu, number four, chicken… strips with the side choice of onion rings, fries, or salad." Her sure headstrong bravado quickly faltered.

The waiter had a smug but still annoyed smile before he quickly snatched the menu back up. He still wasn't any kinder than before. "Right! _Number four: __chicken strips_! How about next time you learn your numbers before you order!" He made sure to emphasize _chicken strips_ before turning and leaving the table in a made a mental note not to try and push his luck if ever he got that waiter anytime soon. So much for the customer always being right; though he truly couldn't say that she didn't fully deserve it.

Like a good son, James was fine about keeping in touch with his parents, who were always so eager to hear about the latest developments of their son's life. James mostly talked about classes and grade and general things and his silence about friend didn't get past his mother. "James, I know you're doing well in school, you were always so smart, but I want to hear about your friends. Tell me about the people you've met."

"Friends?" Wilson didn't mean for it to come out like it had, he was just surprised at the question.

She frowned, "James, a sweet boy like you should have friends."

"I have friends!" he defended. But she knew her sons habits well enough that she knew she could call his bluff. Hazel asked him to tell her about them if that was the case. His mother was quite the clever creature and it was obvious that this is where James had gotten his own cleverness growing up.

He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. He didn't really know a thing about these supposed friends he had. He could have said anything, made up some elaborate tale so filled with rich detail that someone would have thought he were reciting his own past... But he simply didn't think of it.

She worried about her son not having someone where he was to talk to. Sure he called and talked to Michael once or twice a week but she knew it was nothing like having someone with him he could goof off with and have fun. He simply told her not to worry so much. He was fine without someone nearby to chat with outside class (even if he was a little lonesome, but he didn't mention that part to his mother).

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Weeks later after a long week of school one Friday evening James decided he didn't feel like cooking or going to a fast food joint for dinner. He had heard about a new Italian restaurant that had recently opened in town and he just felt like spoiling himself.. He had heard about how good the food was from some students after lunch and he'd been thinking about it all day. It also helped that he heard that the place was a little classier than most restaurants and that dressing a little nicer than normal would not be frowned upon. And yes, even then James had already own several suits.

_Anastasia's_ was a nice classy Italian restaurant with valet parking if you chose (James simply walked, being that it wasn't far from his apartment), a door boy who took your coat and a live pianist. And let's not forget the food! The food was absolutely wonderful and arrived at a quick and timely manner. Knowing that he had nowhere to be, James ate a leisurely pace while he listened to the sweet musics of the pianist.

While watching the pianist play he was suddenly hit with the feeling that he had seen this guy before. He couldn't place exactly where but he was almost sure of it. Where had he seen this guy before? He asked himself that question over and over with his curiosity grown with each question. Despite his normally good manners he continued to stare all the while he tried to remember where he had seen this man before.

The pianist sat behind the piano and plucked the bi-colored key, coaxing a beautiful, yet unknown melody out of the beautiful Baby Grand. Though James had never heard the song before he played it like it was a classic. There was a complexity and strength to it that just begged to be performed by one of the late piano masters of the past and with the proficiency the pianist played the tune and by how relaxed the pianist was, James was fairly sure it was his own work.

But there was something about the pianist that made him a little more intriguing than the music he produced. At first James hadn't noticed it since the pianist had his eyes closed for most of his playing, but when they opened; they were so blue that James could make out the vibrancy of the color from where he was sitting yards away. In some respects the man didn't look like he would fit in in a place like this and yet he seemed to have a presence about him that said he could hold his own with no problem.

He still stood out. He didn't even try to fit in. Though he wore a blazer and a white dress shirt, you really couldn't tell he was wearing jeans and not formal pants. He understood now why those blue eyes stood out so well. They were the blue in an endless sea of black and white fancy. His bow tie was black but the class was slightly canceled out by his disheveled hair and unshaven stubble.

If there was one thing James love more than fine music was fine music being played live. He smiled to himself as he worked on eating his rich piece of strawberry and chocolate cheesecake. He had already forgotten that he was trying to remember where he had seen the pianist.

Curiously he watched as a table of guest stood to leave and on their way out one of the men slipped a tip in a dry chardonnay glass that sat atop the piano for tips. The pianist thanked them and started with another song. This one was livelier, almost like something you'd hear in a church with a choir backing it up. It was a little strange for an Italian restaurant but oddly it didn't seem _that_ out of place. It almost seemed welcoming.

But even though James loved music he wasn't in the mood for lively church music. He wanted something softer… soothing. So after he finished his slice of cheesecake (which if he wasn't so full he'd order another slice of), made his way to the piano with a ten folded in his hand. He quietly slipped it into the chardonnay glass.

And without missing a beat, the pianist spoke, "You have a request?" He kept his eyes low at the keys before giving James a slow side-glance. _Those eyes… they __**were**__ that blue._ James didn't realize he had been staring. "Anything five or over deserves a request." He informed before he played a very quick, jazzy tune that sounded more like a quick warm up piece than anything.

James then remembered he had a voice and how to use it. "Play something… soothing?"

The pianist stuck out his bottom lip as if to think before he gave a quick nod and started to play something. The song was as he requested. Softer, calmer… but it seemed to hold a sadness to it. It sounded beautiful and for that James had no objections. "Put another ten in that glass and I'll add words to it." He winked.

James smiled, "I wouldn't think singing would be part of your job package."

"It's not." He assured before letting out a chuckle and waved James off. "Don't waste your money. The last thing anyone needs is to hear me singing." James smiled back as he turned and began to make his way back to his table and requested a glass of Merlot to go with his song.


	3. Discover Who Your Friends Really Are

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_**CHAPTER TWO:** Discover Who Your Friends Really Are _

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Saturday's warm nice morning was a welcomed one. No school meant a day of leisure… Now if only James knew what to do with it. After waking up with a nice shower, James' stomach wasted no time letting him know breakfast was in order. He made himself a quick breakfast of eggs and sausage with some toast and orange juice. It was a delicious breakfast, no doubt, but it didn't do much to subdue his sweet tooth. He managed to ignore it for an hour or two while he cleaned up and did some laundry, but it eventually got the best of him. He grabbed his wallet and keys and made his way out the apartment and into the hallway. _They must put crack in the desserts._ He thought to himself with a laugh as he locked his apartment door behind him.

The walk to the café didn't take long and was actually quite pleasant on such a nice day with James idly entertained the thought of buying a bike to ride around the city sometime. Once there, he was pleased to see that the place was sparsely filled with only a few tables being occupied. The service was always faster when there weren't _too_ many people around. He took his seat in a booth next to one of the large store font windows to watch the cars and people go by. It was nice to switch things up every once and a while. James didn't even bother to pick up the menu that sat in front of him on the table; he already knew what he was after. It wasn't long before a waiter showed up at his table.

"Welcome to _Bon Café_. My name's Greg and I'll be serving you today. You ready to order?" Not even bothering to look up, The waiter said his opening speech with his pen and pad already out waiting to write the order down. James could tell that he really didn't want to be there by the way his speech was drawn out and tired. James' eyes opened a little wider when realization struck him. This is where he had seen the pianist! He was the snarky waiter from _Bon Café!_

"It's you."

Greg finally looked up and was greeted with familiar mahogany brown eyes. "Why, hello, mysterious brown eyed stranger. Do you have an order for me or are you trying to waste my time?"

James hadn't been expecting the comment. Sure, he had a job to do, but he didn't mind talking to him last night at _Anastasia's_ while he was working. "You don't remember me?"

he waiter only folded his arms with a vaguely amused expression. "At anytime did I say I _didn't_ remember you?"

"Well, no, but-"

"Good, now that we have that all straightened out how's about that order? I do have a job to do." He spoke with his tone now holding a hint of annoyance to it.

This was all a little off-putting to James. "Sure, I'd like a frozen mocha latté."

Greg went straight to writing. "Anything else, Mysterious Brown Eyed Stranger?" he said almost teasingly.

"My name's James."

"Well, in that case, anything else, _James_?" He shook his head. "I'll have your stuff in a second." And with that, he took the menu and wandered off to the kitchen.

_What in the world was that?_ James had asked himself. Maybe the wine he drank before and after dinner made him think this guy was the pianist at the restaurant. The pianist last night was witty and charming with gorgeous blue eyes… but this Greg character seemed rude and well, he was still witty. And he _did_ have those blue eyes.

James was still pondering the situation when the waiter returned. In one hand he held a large glass with James' frozen mocha latté and a piece of chocolate cake in the other. James didn't think much on the cake other than it was for another table; he took the offered mocha latté and made sure to thank him. But to James' surprise the waiter took a seat across from James in the same booth as he sat with his back to the window and his long legs stretched over the seat without a word. Confused, James stared as the waiter snatched his fork and started to eat the cake.

"Uh, that's my fork." He stated as he watched Greg eat the piece of cake.

Blue eyes glanced over at him. "Well, you weren't gonna use it, were you?"

"No, but… forget it. Why are you here?"

"Duh, I work here." He didn't look up from his cake this time.

James shook his head. "No, I mean, why are you here? At my table eating cake?" He pointed to the table as he tried to emphasize his point.

"I'm on break enjoying a snack."

"But at my table?" He didn't want to seem rude; he was just trying to understand what was going on here. If anyone was being rude it was this waiter.

Greg shook his head and rolled his eyes. "Pfft, you seemed to be interested in my company a moment ago. I'm on break; I can actually talk without getting in trouble for the next fifteen minutes." James blinked before finally giving his own frozen mocha latté the attention it deserved. "Why are you here?"

"I like the coffee and desserts." He could play this single answer game, too.

"So you're not stalking me?" Greg asked with a curious look and sounding maybe the tiniest bit disappointed.

James gave a suspicious stare. "You… want a stalker?" Really, who actually wanted a stalker?

After taking his last bite, Greg put the plate onto the table as he continued to sit sideways in the booth before he turned his attention back to James. "Stalkers can make normal, boring situations fun."

"I'm not stalking you; I actually forgot you worked here."

"Well, that certainly makes me feel all warm and fuzzy. You forgot me." Already Greg was trying to play with James' guilt strings.

It worked. "Well, I knew I saw you before… I just didn't know where." He tried to explain.

"Hmm." Greg grabbed his fork and stuck it back in his moth to get the last of the chocolate icing and cake crumbs off before he started to tap the commandeered fork obnoxiously against the table. "So, what brings you to Baltimore?"

James knew he had to slow down on his mocha latté, but it was too late. He could already feel brain freeze. He closed his eyes before and held a hand against his temple and groaned. "I'm going to school here."

Greg let out a chuckle at the sight and stood. He was still hungry. "You want anything?" He gestured toward the kitchen with his right hand as he used his left to lean against the table. James looked up at him with his brows still furrowed but brain freeze pretty much gone.

"Yeah, some fries would be good, and… a banana."

Greg slowly gave a confused glare at James but gave a nod. "Alright, fries and a banana." And with that he went to get a burger for himself and fries and a banana for his strange new acquaintance. About five minutes passed as James worked slower on his frozen mocha latté when Greg arrived with more food. "A burger and Dr. Pepper for me, fries and… banana for you." He announced as he put the burger plate down with the drink and took the smaller plate of fries off the burger (he didn't care if his burger was a little crushed in the process, he was going to eat it, not admire it) and passed them toward James while pulling the banana from his apron pocket and placing it on the same plate.

"Thanks." Now finished with his mocha latté, James pushed the glass to the side and started on the fries. And even though the man across the table was now working on eating his own burger he reached out and snagged a couple of fries for himself from James' plate. Again James stared in disbelief.

_Seriously?_

"Did you actually just reach across that table and take some of my fries?"

"What? I got them for free; the least you could do is let me have a few." He answered as he ate one before taking another bite of his burger.

James was just plain confused. Did this man not know that such a thing as personal space existed? "You don't even know me."

"No, but I know where those fries came from. And I didn't see you do anything to contaminate them yet, so I really don't care." James was about to argue a case before dropping it and giving in with a shrug with Greg grabbing another for good measure. "So, what's with the banana?" He nodded in the direction of the yellow fruit that James had been neglecting.

"Maybe I want to eat something healthy."

"Yes.. but I would think the health factor would be canceled out with the fires you're eating and mocha latte you just drank." Again, James could have dropped it and not even bothered to keep on the subject but felt the need to explain himself anyways.

"You see, there's this donkey at the petting zoo that I heard likes bananas-"

Greg put a hand up for James to stop talking. "You know what? On second thought; don't tell me." Again, not wanting this guy to think the wrong thing James opened his mouth to continue his sentence when he noticed that Greg was finished with his food and was looking at his watch. Before anything else could be said Greg stood again and grabbed his plates. "Break's over. Back to work." And without another word he was heading off to the kitchen.

After James paid his bill and left, Greg wasn't too sure what to think of the guy. At first he had seemed like any other of the good looking people he's met. They were nice to look at, but talking to them and trying to hold a conversation with them wasn't as nice. Normally they had no common sense. But the thing was, Greg really wasn't giving James a chance. James was a guy who had lived a relatively normal, slightly sheltered life. To have a guy who you only just met sit down at your table and take your fork, fries, and invade your personal space wasn't an everyday thing. It took a little time to get used to it. There was only one Greg House and many people would tell you he was an acquired taste.

James was simply trying to understand what was going on to the extent to show his full ability to keep up with this… eccentric fellow's conversation. But on the bright side, he did better than most.

Greg didn't stay thinking about James too long. Lately at school there had been another James causing him problems and any mention of the name his mind always went to him. He was a freshman of sorts at the school of medicine but was already making a name for himself with the professors and doctors. Everyone was asking him if he's met James Wilson yet.

No, he hadn't.

And if he could have it his way he wouldn't. Most smart people like that that did wonderfully in school like this guy were normally the pompous jackass that would always be trying to tell you the right way of doing things. House liked doing things his way and he wasn't going to let some guy tell him other wise. That always got on his nerves quick. He punched a kid in the face back in high school for that very same reason. Can't say he didn't warn him first, too, but people like that just don't listen.

Every time he thought of James Wilson his mind thought of some nerdy kid with thick coke bottle glasses with big teeth, a pocket protector, and a clipboard.

Had he actually been able to see James at his normal state of mind he might have been able to put two and two together and realized that this boy wonder the professors were talking about was actually the James he sat down and had a quick impromptu lunch with. For once it seemed that ignorance was not bliss and James Wilson was the last person he wanted to meet.

--

When work was done for the day, Greg found his mind wandering to the same thing it had been thinking about on and off all day. It seemed the more Greg thought about his _Mysterious Brown Eyed Stranger Named James, _the more intrigued he became. There was something about him. He found that the more he thought about it, the more he wanted to poke and prod the guy and find out what made him tick. Not everyone would put up with a stranger in their personal space taking what they like. Either he was rather open and didn't mind or he was very naive. All he knew was his physical appearance, he seemed nicer than he should be to a stranger, and that he was in Baltimore because he was going to school.

He didn't even know what school, what for, or even when his last name was. So actually trying to look for him was out of the question. Instead it looked like he would have to wait for James character to find him. Greg had seen the guy once of twice in the café before the encounter at A_nastasia's_ but never really paid him too much mind other than he was a pretty face until today.

James himself was a mystery. He came into the café various times though out the week, he found out from another co-worker, but it was never at set time or day. Greg only worked at _Bon Café _three times a week and _Anastasia's_ on Friday nights. Not getting financial help from his family like James was he needed all the money he could get a hold of. Maybe Greg though about finding this guy to keep himself occupied and away from his apartment, because there was no avoiding it, the Drama Queen was probably there now.

The Drama Queen, of course, was a nickname Greg gave him roommate. Darren P. Bridgman was his real name, a bratty kid from Georgia that acted like he was just hot shit and thrived on being able to throw up some drama at the drop of a hat. Sure, he had the looks of a model but damn if he wasn't dumb as a rock. This is what Greg had come to expect from someone with good looks.

If this were his only problem with the guy it wouldn't be that much of a problem and he could just ignore him when he went on about how he's out of hair gel or something of that nature. But it was the fact that the guy didn't listen to him in the slightest is what made it that much harder _not_ to kill him. But this is what you get when you're staying in the school affiliated housing. The rent was next to nothing that was paid in the beginning of the year but the catch was you couldn't really choose your roommate. So here he was stuck with this drama queen until the end of the year unless he found a new place to call home.

And even this wasn't as bad as it got. What he hated more than anything was when the Drama Queen had friends over because when he and his friend were in the apartment Greg was almost sure he could feel his IQ dropping by the minute. He'd need to figure out what he had done with his CD player. That did a pretty good job of drowning his roommate and company out.

Nearly a week had gone by and Greg hadn't seen or found his something of a friend, James. He was his new puzzle and he was going to figure him out, that was, if he could find him.

Greg had even made an attempt to go to the park he knew had a petting zoo (He didn't know if they had a donkey that like bananas, but it would do). In the back of his mind he knew he wasn't going to find the guy and that he was only going to look like a fool to himself but he had to do something to keep his mind occupied. More time went by with Greg starting to wonder if his new acquaintance was avoiding him. It wouldn't be the first time he was being avoided. Some people have gone as far to make an art form of Avoiding Greg House.

He was nearly ready to give up his search for _The Mysterious Brown Eyed Stranger Named James Who Was Going to School in Baltimore_ (the title got longer each time he thought about it). If he had more information to go on, like a last name or even what school he was attending he just might could pull something together and find him. All he knew was his name was James, had brown eyes, and was going to school in Baltimore. He could probably fine a hundred James' with brown eyes that went to a school in Baltimore.

Trying to the inkling of a new obsession aside, Greg walked over to one of the new by lecture halls he was designated to be for the next three hours. He really didn't look forward to any of this and vaguely wondered if it was to late for him to slip back out with no one noticing.

Too late, Professor Kowalski noticed him. "Greg, can you come here for a moment?" he asked with his Australian accent thick. Greg sighed and placed his books on a desk at the front of the class.

"Yes, Professor Koala?" Greg didn't care if it was his boss, his roommate, or his college professor, he was going to have fun anyway he could and if that meant a joke at the other party's expense… so be it.

Professor Kowalski knew this well. "Yes, yes… funny, I'm sure." He said, shaking his head but quickly going back to why he had called Greg over in the first place. "Ahh, Greg, have you met James Wilson yet?"

Greg was close to repeating the lesson he taught that kid in high school with his fist to his professor. He took a breath and rolled his eyes. He really didn't want to meet this nerdy know it all. Especially didn't want to meet one that scored higher than him on the MCAT. The last thing he needed was some know it all telling him how he was supposed to…

He stopped in mid thought when he finally looked at the James Wilson he was being introduced to. So, it turned out to be a small world and there weren't as many James' as Greg had originally though, because standing there with his professor was a very handsome, dressed up, James from the café. Greg pulled a smile and tried to make it look like he didn't just realize who James was. "I finally meet the infamous James Wilson, Boy Wonder."

Brown eyes shown from behind black framed glasses with a smile. "And I finally get to meet the legend on campus, Gregory House." The last thing Greg had been expecting was to find the very person he had been looking for hiding right under his nose the whole time.

Handsome _and_ smart.

Greg may have thought he finally found someone to fill that _best friend _position that had been open for years now. James did seem to have a knack for it already. Greg gave a short laugh. "Heh, I didn't know the _you_ in the coffee shop was _you_, James Wilson, the freshmen prodigy."

James smiled. "Prodigy is a bit much, but if it's any consolation, I didn't know you were Greg House." For the first time, Greg held out his hand for a shake. He took it.

It seems that on the request of Professor Kowalski, James was going to sit in for the lecture. James had arrived much earlier for the lecture and already had his things set up at a desk away from the one Greg had selected for himself. Not really wanting to deal with trying to dislocate one of the girls who looked to be fawning over their guest he opted just to stay where he was already sitting. This was most probably good news for James. If he actually wanted to listen to the lecture it was best he didn't have his new friend bugging him the whole time.

When the lecture was finally brought to its end Greg made sure to catch up with James. "So where are you off to all dressed up?"

James turned; his leather briefcase in hand with his stylish black framed glasses making him just that little more attractive. Greg couldn't help it; he just found stylish glasses alluring. "I'm going to meet some people later."

They didn't pay any of the passersby mind as they stood in the middle hallway. "People?" House chuckled. "What are you, an actor?"

James rolled his eyes but smile nonetheless. "Hardly, I'm meeting some people from Columbia University."

"Ah, you going there after your medical degree?"

He looked to Greg over his glasses before pushing them up the bridge of his nose. "I'm transferring there next year."

Those glasses were starting to get to Greg, and quick. He had no clue the guy wore them. "Are those glasses for real or are they just supposed to make you look smart?" he asked teasingly.

"They work." James tossed as he continued down the hall with Greg quickly catching up.

"For which?"

"Both." He offered before continuing. "I somehow managed to misplace my contacts this morning."

But Greg didn't even try to hold back his laughter. "How the hell do you pull _that_ off? How do you lose contacts? Both of them?"

"I lost the case they were in. And no, I have no idea how I did it."

Once outside the two men stopped as Wilson took a glance at his watch. Greg took a glance as well. "So, when do you have to meet these Columbia people?" The nearby cherry blossoms nearly drenched the air around them with their scent.

"At five."

"Well, in that case," Greg said as he looked straight ahead at one the cherry trees a distance in front of him before turning slowly to glance at his friend. "Care for a coffee?"


	4. Tap Dancing in the Abandoned Theater

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**_CHAPTER THREE:_**_ Tap Dancing in the Abandoned Theater_

---

After the two had been formally introduced things became less awkward being that they both knew just who they were dealing with. James had heard a bit about Greg House's brash and abrasive personality so he knew what to expect. And, well, we all know House wasn't looking forward to meeting the smart James Wilson at first.

After being around the guy, Greg certainly learned that not only could James keep up with him but also prove to be a challenge, as well. This was just the guy Greg was looking for. No one could possibly better suited to take on the task of being Gregory House's friend like this intelligent, good looking fellow here.

But before James could even know the job opening for _best friend_ was open, it turned out that he would have to pass a test or two. These test tended to present themselves on their own and usually while they were hanging out at James' studio apartment. It only took one look at the apartment to know that James' family had money. Just the fact that he was staying in a nice place like this in the better part of town with no roommate screamed it. Greg only wished he were that lucky.

"You're one of those rich kids, aren't you?"

James may have been younger than his new friend, but by no means was he was a kid. "I wouldn't say rich, we just have money. And I'm twenty-two, not fifteen."

Greg grinned teasingly. "Oh, we're a big boy, eh?"

This was getting old fast. "And how old are you?" he said with a hint of bite to his words. There were just some things that James just could not stand and being treated like a child for no reason was one of them.

"Add ten years to yours and you got mine." Greg House was thirty-two. To James it seemed a bit older than normal for someone to be getting their medical degree. He wanted to ask him why he had waited so long but before he could even think about asking anything Greg quickly changed the subject. "So, Jimmy, what magical talents do you possess?" The sudden change almost threw him off guard but managed to collect himself in time and arched a brow.

"Magical?"

"Yeah, you know… interesting talents. I play the piano. You play anything?"

James shook his head but answered anyway. "I used to play the violin as a kid, but it's been years since I've even picked one up."

"No good?" he asked as James stood from the couch.

"I was okay. I could make someone smile if that counts." Greg shrugged. Almost any kid playing an instrument, good or bad, could make someone smile. It had to do with that whole cute factor.

With a curiosity that would make any cat's, Greg lifted his head to try and get a look into a box that James had started digging around in inside a closet. "What are you looking for?" He stretched himself out on the couch and kept watching.

James didn't even bother to pull himself out the closet to answer. "Something I probably shouldn't even be thinking about showing anyone… much less you." He pushed the box out of his way as he started looking in another one.

"Aw, Jimmy, I'm hurt."

"Ah, here they are!" Greg continued to watch curiously as James went about pulling off his current shoes in favor of the pair he had just pulled out the closet. He had no clue as to why a pair of shoes could be embarrassing, especially a nifty pair that looked like they were from the 40's. James stood with his hands on his hips once he got them on and laced up and waited for Greg to laugh.

But nothing came.

"Well?"

He only looked at James with furrowed brows and sat up. "I'm not catching the joke."

"I guess you can't appreciate them on soft flooring." James walked over to the hardwood floor of the small kitchen area but once the shoes hit the floor's hard surface, each step was made known by two audible taps by heel and toe. James turned to Greg when he stood the cabinets and was greeted by a large grin. "Go on, get it out." He waved off.

"You... _tap dance_?!" Greg yelped before he succumbed to a fit of laughter. James couldn't help but smile as he shook his head and held a hand over his face. When his friend calmed he was finally able to speak. "You know, you totally have to do something for me here." James gave an embarrassed smirk as he glanced at Greg from between his parted fingers.

"You're really going to torture me like that?"

"Oh my God, _please_?" From his spot in the kitchen he folded his arms and rolled his eyes at Greg's plea. "There's no way you can put on a pair of tap shoes, tell me you can tap dance, and _not_ tap dance!"

James scoffed. "Watch me." He knew this was a mistake.

"No! No, no, no… You _have_ to!" he laughed again, "Oh, come on! I even said please!" but James still didn't look any closer to budging. "I'm not going to leave you alone until you do something!" Greg threatened as he stood from the couch and went into the small kitchen. "Do I have to latch onto your leg like a five year old? 'Cause believe me, I'll do it." He said almost convincingly as he pointed an accusing finger.

The mental image of 6'3'' Greg latching onto his leg made for an amusing sight. "Fine." That was all that needed to be said. With a satisfied clap of his hands, Greg went to back to the couch and started to push it to it faced the kitchen. "I haven't done this for a few years now. I used to take lessons as a teenager." But that didn't sway Greg in the slightest. "So, what do you want to see?"

He looked at James like he was retarded and fell back against the couch cushions. "I don't know!" he spat. "I know absolutely nothing about tap dancing! All I know is that you tap those shoes on the floor and made a beat or something."

The younger man let out an amused snort. "Well, in _that_ case..." James tapped the toe of his left shoe three times before stopping down his right once. "Ta-da." He said as he gave very, _very_ unenthusiastic jazz hands.

"What?!" he shrieked disbelieving and shot up from his spot on the couch. "Oh, _very_ funny, funny, Jimmy boy. Come on," he clapped his hands twice before he pointed to the floor. "You own me a dance! So, hop to it!"

Greg knew his friend had finally given in as he went about rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. "I do warn you, I'm no Michael Flatley."

"Whatever, just dance." He waved his hand like he were some king and James was his performing servant.

James kept on stalling by giving Greg a look that just screamed that his audience was being impossible. "Really, no music? You know how foolish that looks? How much harder that makes things?"

His audience was ready to throw a couch cushion at him when a brilliant idea struck. He could give James music and a stage to dance on. "Hold that thought!" he yelped and stood, quickly going for his blazer and shoes. "You! Change back into your other shoes but don't forget those, they're coming, too!"

"Wait, what?" He asked baffled. One minute he's being yelled at to perform and now he's told not to. "Where are you going?" He watched as Greg slipped his arms into the blazer's sleeves and came back into the small kitchen area. James leaned lazily against the counter and watched him.

"You're coming too!" Greg exclaimed as he grabbed James arm to get him moving.

"Ack! _Where_ are we going?!" At the feeling of being treated like a child again, James yanked his arm from Greg's grasp. "I _can_ walk for myself, you know." He growled. Greg would eventually learn not to treat him as such.

"Fine, I'm sorry." He could plainly see that he over stepped some line by the look in those brown eyes.

James walked from the kitchen and back to the closet to switch out the shoes, "Yeah, whatever."

Greg rolled his eyes and let out an annoyed sigh, "I said I was sorry, okay?"

That didn't change the fact that James was still annoyed. "Yes, you did! I know." Greg hated it when he had these hissy-fits… well, they weren't really hissy-fits, he was just pissed. He guessed it was understandable the more he thought about it. It was like how he didn't like being treated like a moron. "So, where are we going? You've yet to answer that question." By this point he didn't sound as annoyed as he waited for an answer while holding onto his tap shoes.

"Somewhere cool, that's where!"

"That answers so much." He answered with a mock thankfulness before something dawned on him. He had learned much about his friend in the short time of knowing each other. "This is something… illegal, isn't it?"

Greg smiled but quickly replaced it with an innocent look and fluttered his eyelashes, "Oh, Jimmy, you don't really think I would do _anything_ bad, do you?"

"You really shouldn't do that… ever." He informed with a nervous laugh.

He shrugged. "Come on!"

"I'm not tap dancing for people." James added quickly.

"Great, but it's just going to be us, relax!"

"You… you'd better hope no one else is there or I'm going to kill you." He tossed in with a warning look.

"You never trust me!" Greg pulled a whiny voice.

James rolled his eyes and followed his friend out into the hall, "Yeah, well, I know better."

"Hmpf!"

--

With James' apartment being in the more active part of town almost everything was within walking distance; including their destination. It wasn't long before, to James' dismay, Greg had stopped in front of an old, dilapidated, abandoned building. He knew then for sure his friend was up to no good.

The sign that clearly read _NO TRESPASSING_ posted on the front door didn't make him feel any better. Quietly, he followed Greg through the side alley along the building and through an unlocked side door. "Oh, wow! Could you possibly make this seem anymore like we're _not _trespassing?!" James hissed.

"Shh! Shut _up_!" Greg shushed him as they quietly made their way down a dark hallway. James made sure to keep close by holding onto Greg's shoulder as they went. Last thing he wanted was to get lost in some old abandoned building.

He just hoped this wasn't a crack house or anything. Greg didn't look the type to be hooked on something, but you never know with some people. "Hey, if there's drugs here-"

"No drugs, just music."

"Huh? Music?" James felt Greg stop walking and allowed his shoulder to be free when he felt him bend down as if to pick something up. It was a few seconds later he heard something on the other side of the room move. His first instinct was to run but he settled for grabbing hold of Greg. "What was _that_?!"

Greg rolled his eyes in the darkness but even though James couldn't see his face he could hear it the annoyance in his voice. "That was _me_! I threw a rock or whatever to make sure no one else was _here_! Now stop _freaking out_!"

It was too late for that. "I wouldn't freak out if we weren't wandering around some dark abandoned building for no apparent reason!" He was yelling but still had enough mind to keep his voice to a whisper.

"SHHH!"

"SHH, yourself!" He yelped and continued his rant. "And what the hell are you talking about? _Music?!_ What-" the rest of what he was about to spit out was muffled by Greg's hand over his mouth.

"WILL YOU JUST _SHUT UP_?!" Greg yelled out before quickly restraining himself to their yelling whispers. "Dammit, Jimmy! You need to relax, I just wanted to take you out and have some fun! But _no_! You have to get all worked up and let your morals take over! If I have known you were going to be an ass about it I wouldn't have brought you here!"

But of course, James wasn't going to let it go like that. "Well, how the fuck do you expect me to act, Greg?! We're breaking the _law_!" At first seeing James worked up was amusing, but this was getting old quick.

"You know what, Jimmy? Find your own damn way back!" and with that, Greg slipped out of his friend's reach and left him alone in the darkness.

James was flustered as it was and needless to say, being abandoned in an old, worn down building shot his nerves and resolve pretty quickly. "Greg?" One could hear the nervousness clinging to his every word. "Greg, where are you? I…I'm sorry, I'll shut up… Oh, just don't leave me along here in the dark!" Panic was steadily starting to take over. "Greg, did you hear me? I said I was _sorry_!" James couldn't help but feel like he was in some horror film. "Greg, please! I-AHH!!" James yelled again, this time by something touching his shoulder. It didn't take but a moment for him to realize it was Greg.

"I was only two foot away from you the whole time." James could hear him smiling.

"You _ass_!"

Greg patted the frustrated man's shoulder. "You're wound up way too tight, Jimmy. You need to loosen up before you give yourself a stroke." He grabbed James' hand and placed it back on his shoulder as he started to lead the way again. "Cause really, Jimmy, you don't have to be Mr. Goody-two-shoes all the time. You _are_ allowed to have some fun, too, you know." James could definitely feel that they were in a completely different room than before. The acoustics had changed dramatically and they were passing what felt like upholstered chairs.

James scoffed at Greg, "I also need to finish med school to be a doctor."

"Yeah, yeah... me, too. Steps."

"Wha - oof!" James nearly stumbled into Greg as he stubbed the toe of his shoe against the first set of steps. Where the hell were they? As extra precaution as he checked for each step as they walked still in the dark. He was about to ask once again where they were, but quickly thought better of it. It was best he didn't annoy Greg any more than he already had. He kept hold of his leader's shoulder and tried to keep close and was relieved when the steps finally ended. They walked a few feet before Greg came to a stop and again grabbed hold of James' hand and took it and placed it on a large piece of furniture that felt cool to the touch.

"Stay here."

With that Greg left James to fend for himself in the darkness. This time around he handled things much better. With the acoustics as good as they were he was able to keep track of where his friend was in the room just by listening. It was only when Greg walked far enough away out of James' earshot when he started to get a little nervous again. Before he could really start to worry a loud click echoed across the room as bright lights suddenly flooded his vision. It was only after his eyes adjusted to the bright light he finally could see where he was.

He was standing in the middle of an old stage and was leaning against as old dusty grand piano. Brown eyes were wide with curiosity and amazement as he took in the sight of the large room. Suddenly a wave of fear of messing up washed over him as he stared off into the empty audience. Just like that he felt like he was fourteen years old again and was performing at one of his recitals.

It was someone sneezing repeatedly that brought him back to reality. Quickly he turned his head to the sound and spotted Greg as he reemerged from behind dusty curtains while rubbing his nose. "Ugh, fuckin' dust."

"What is this place?" James asked curiously as Greg continued to rub his nose and sniffed hard as he tried to recover from his sneezing fit.

"It's a theater that closed down years ago. I stumbled upon it last year while I was walking around town on one of my days off." He sat down at the piano bench and took care as he wiped the dust off the old graying keys with the edge of his t-shirt. "So, like I promised; no one here but us. So you ready to dance?" Greg winced slightly as he started to play a slow waltz with the piano voicing its need for a tune up. With a shank of his head he was able to shrug it off and kept playing while James worked on switching out his current shoes in favor for the tap shoes.

"Like I said before. I'm no _Lord of the Dance_ like Michael Flately, but I do make for a slightly okay Gene Kelly."

Greg's waltz quickly came to a halt. "...what? I'm sorry, I think I had something crazy in my ear."

"When I was younger as I told you, I... took tap dancing lessons. Well, like any lessons of such, be it music or dancing, there were recitals. And I..." James knew right when the words left his mouth, he was going to get hell, but Greg wanted to know. "…adored Gene Kelly. And for the recitals I would always do something of his." Sure enough, when he turned to Greg he was greeted with a smile trying to be hidden with a badly placed hand. "Go on; get it out of your system. I know, it's ridiculous!"

"N-no, It's... fine." He tried to hold back his laughter but was failing miserably. "Gene Kelly, eh?"

"Yep."

That was all it took to break the wall with Greg unable to hold his laughter back any longer. With that one word he just let all loose and bright a hand back to his face as he laughed harder. James didn't say a thing. He just rolled his eyes with the shake of his head.

He couldn't laugh forever.

Greg was clutching his side and wiping the tears from his eyes as he tried to stop laughing. But it was no use. All it took was one look at James with his arms folded wearing those shoes and that three piece suit and he was off again.

"God..." James groaned as he tapped the toe of his shoe on the old stage boards as his patience started to run a thin. This action only fueled Greg laughter even more. "Well, do you want me to dance or not?!"

"Yes! Yes... Haaaah hah. hah… Yes, heh. Ohh, give me a second." He took a deep breath to calm himself down but still chuckled to himself. "So what do you want me to play, Mr. Kelly?"

James ignored the name. "Well, I have an idea.. but it depends on if I can get two things. You seem to know this place better than I. Is there a hat... and an umbrella nearby?"

"Jimmy, my boy, I think you might have some luck up those sleeves of yours! Hold on, I think I can help!" Greg called out, sounding almost as if he were in one of the old Gene Kelly films before he pulled out a pocket flashlight and stood from the bench.

He had a flashlight the whole time? "A flashlight? Where was _that_ when we were wandering around in the _dark_?!"

"My pocket." Greg called back nonchalantly as he made his way back behind the old dusty curtains. James listened to Greg rustling around for a moment or two while he started to do some warm up moves. "Well, you're partly in luck!" came from behind the curtains. "I can only find a cowboy hat, and an oriental umbrella."

"They'll have to do I guess." He spoke at normal volume.

"WHAT?! I can't hear you!"

"THAT'S FINE!"

"Damn, Jimmy," He said as he walked out back into the openness of the stage while trying to brush as much dust as he could from the hat. "You don't have to yell." He held the articles out to James with him snatching them up. It certainly made for an amusing sight as James hardly came close to matching. He wore a light tan cow boy hat, a three piece charcoal gray pin stripe suit, wearing two toned brown and white Wingtip tap shoes and held an Oriental umbrella printed with an Asian style country side on the top.

Greg wished he owned a camera.

"So, do you know _Singin' in the Rain_?"

"Oh no..." The laughter back in Greg's voice as he sat back down at the piano bench.

"You don't? I thought you knew _everything_, Mr. I-can-play-anything-by-ear."

"Oh, I wasn't saying I can't play it, I was thinking about your performance! Oh gawd.. are you really going to do that one?"

"It's a routine most people are familiar with." James swung the umbrella by the handle he was almost sure an oriental umbrella wasn't supposed to have and made his way to the side of the stage. "Are you ready?"

"I am, but I think it's you who needs to be ready."

"I'll let you know when to start." James trotted over to the right side of the stage, each step clicking loudly against the stage floor. Greg Once again tried his best to keep from laughing.

James was really starting to feel like he did when he was a teen doing this for the first time on stage.

There were parts that he knew he would have to improvise at when he came to them. Since he wasn't dancing on an expansive road way but a stage he tried his best to recall just how he preformed it for his recital on that small stage years ago. Letting out an anxious breath he waved for Greg to start playing. He did have to hand it to him Greg did know how to play a piano. James started to hum as he managed a slow walk around the piano as he started to sing. "I'm singing in the rain, just singing in the rain. What a glorious feelin', I'm happy again."

This was just too brilliant. Greg never would have thought when James said he could tap dance that he was going to be Gene Kelly. Not wanting to miss a thing he made sure to try and keep his eyes on the dancer at all times.

"I'm laughing at clouds, so dark up above-" And to play it up even more like Gene Kelly he tossed personal space out the window and with no lamp post to hold on to, he choose the next best thing, Greg. He put a hand on each of the man's shoulders and put his left cheek to Greg's right and continued to sing. "The sun's in my heart, and I'm ready for love." Even Greg couldn't help but laugh as James pulled away and walked lightly about the stage, "Let the stormy clouds chase, everyone from the place." And loudly he stomped his feet down and apart according them to the ground as he pulled off his cowboy hat, his face facing the ceiling. "Come on with, the rain I've a smile on my face."

What surprised Greg most was James' ability to sing and improvise. Sure, he wasn't going to sell platinum albums with his vocal talents anytime soon, but he did have the voice for this sort of thing. He had the voice of someone on Broadway.

James slipped his hat back on and started to stroll along the stage, twirling the umbrella as he went. "I walk down the lane, with a happy refrain. Just Singin', Singin' in the rain." And to Greg's surprise, James spun on his heels, darted, and launched himself on top of the piano using the piano bench.

The pianist let out a whoop of laughter and cheer. This was certainly the performance he was hoping for. He watched as James finally put those tap shoes to use on the piano's top. Sure, those shoes were going to mar the piano's top, but it was already so disheveled and beat up that Greg was sure no one would notice.

James twirled with the umbrella again, still clutching it with both hands. "Dancin' in the rain, Dee-ah dee-ah dee-ah." He pulled his hat off again enthusiastically. "I'm happy again!" He did some more dancing and tapping on the piano top, and Greg watching with a bright smile. He still couldn't believe what he was seeing. If he squinted and pretended the umbrella was a black one and his hat matched his suit, James could maybe possibly pass as Gene Kelly… though alcohol would help the vision even more. He watched as, just like Gene Kelly would do in the film, started to play the umbrella like a ukulele. "I'm singin' and dancin' in the rain!"

James leaped off the piano and danced more with his umbrella dance partner. He swung the umbrella back and forth with his taps keeping up and matching the piano perfectly. But just as the song started to really pick up, and James started to twirl the umbrella more, someone interrupted their performance.

"HEY! WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE!?" A man called from one of the entrances to the main room. The piano came to a halt and James nearly fell on his face. Not looking too unlike a deer in headlights, he dropped the umbrella while he tried to think of what he was supposed to do. Looking out for his new buddy, Greg ran and quickly pulled James off the side of the stage with the said act jogging his mind back on track.

"Come on, follow me!" Greg called with James close on his heels.

"YOU TWO! STOP!" They could hear the guy calling back from the stage but this only prodded them to get out faster. With the pocket flashlight in hand, the two men made their way back to the hall they had started out in and back out the side door. With their adrenaline still pumping them into overdrive, they kept running as fast as they could down the alley way and a block or two down the street until they came to a small park. Greg was a good few feet ahead of him and grabbed hold to a chair before sitting down, his breathing loud and hard.

James panted as he caught up to him. He grabbed hold of a small oak tree and tried to keep himself from just collapsing on the ground. He shot Greg a death glare. "I _hate_ you."

Greg only took a glance over his shoulder and snickered at Wilson's hard stare and desperate attempt to hold on to the tree before he finally gave in and slide down the small trunk and sat on his legs as he continued to try to catch his breath. "Shut up, you love me. And besides, you act like you've never done something you weren't supposed to." Greg was just as winded and still fought to catch his breath.

"God, we're going to get in so much trouble! They probably called the cops and everything." James was now clinging to the tree for what looked like dear life as he continued to pant for air. He rested his weary head against the smooth trunk before trying to brush some dirt off of his nice dress pants.

Greg shook his head. "Would you relax? They don't know who we are. I don't see you wearing a huge sign saying, _James Wilson, Boy Wonder and soon-to-be-doctor_." Greg turned his attention on the darkness behind them when James groaned again.

"Arrgh... I probably wrecked my shoes..." He sighed loudly, "And I left my other pair. Why did I let you talk me into this?" He let go of the tree and sat in a position where he could look at the bottoms of his shoes without taking them off.

"They're prob'ly fine and besides, if your precious tap shoes are hurt I'll buy you a new pair. How much are they? Fifty dollars? A hundred?"

"Ninety-two... and I guess they're okay." He answered after inspecting the metal plates and finding them no more worse for wear, just dirty.

Greg smiled as he stood and made his way over to a nearby water fountain. "See? No harm, no foul. Now smile! We just did something fun! You do know what fun is, right?" He leaned over to take a drink.

James glared back. "Of course I know fun! That on the other hand, wasn't! That was frightening! We could have been arrested for _TRESPASSING_!"

"Will you shut up!" Greg hissed as he stopped drinking to get some air and splash the water on his face. "With your loud mouth they'll be able to find us if they were still looking!" he spat quietly as if trying to will James to lower his as well.

James closed his mouth but kept shooting daggers in Greg's direction before grumbling, "You're buying me a new pair of dress shoes, though."

"Fine. New pair of shoes for a Mr. James Wilson courtesy of a Mr. Greg House, now _hush_!"

Though the two men were friends before, this would be the act that truly cemented their relationship. No longer were they just friends but best friends. James learned that he could count on Greg when things got tough and Greg learned that James could deal with his spontaneous nature and didn't _completely_ freak out because they were caught. These were the beginnings of what looked to be a wonderful and strange friendship.


	5. Mr Kelly, Secrets and a Late Night Visit

---

**_CHAPTER FOUR: _**_Mr. Kelly, Secrets and a Late Night Visit_

---

8:23pm. Greg let out a yawn as he pulled his eyes off the wall clock and back onto the TV. His day may have been filled with annoying customers and a class or two, that didn't mean he wasn't ready to end the day just yet and it turned out that TV wasn't doing much to help that fact. He tried to think of something that could get he and his friend out of that downtown studio apartment. He turned his attention to James who closed his eyes and nearly looked to be sleeping.

"Hey, you feel like doing something?"

Brown eyes popped open with James trying to look like he hadn't been sleeping. "Huh, wha? Oh! Sure, Yeah."

Greg smirked and rolled his head back against the couch as he looked at the various patterns that the popcorn ceiling had to offer. "Well, there's a skating rink down the road from here.. I haven't been there yet, but I hear it's pretty big."

James let out a chuckle as he sat up and took a look at his friend skeptically. "You want to.. go _skating_?"

"Why not?" Greg shrugged and rolled his head to his right to meet his gaze. "I mean, we've got nothing better to do."

"You roller skate?"

"Not really, I did when I was a kid. But hey, it's better than falling asleep on the couch, here." James had to agree. "I used to ice skate, too.. but not so well. It was more like ice falling." Blue eyes stared lazily, waiting for James' decision.

Those brown eyes were shining with laughter at the thought of Greg failing miserably at ice skating. "Now that's a sight I would love to see."

--

"Damn, Jimmy! Where'd you learn to skate?" Greg barked at James as he skated every which way he pleased, skating circles around his friend literally and metaphorically.

James was smiling, "Oh, I mostly taught myself, but you could say I did had some.. inspiration." It was certainly a strange sight to see these two skating together. As if showing off his talents, James kept skating backward to face Greg as they spoke. Greg would be lying if he said he wasn't just a little envious.

Oh, but the things these two do when they're together. "And that would be…?"

James didn't answer with words, but a whistle. It was a short tune but once he was finished he quickly turned around and shot off like a rocket. It was an invitation for a race, or something of the sort, but that tune... Greg had heard it before. But where?

He racked his brain trying to remember where he had heard it. It wasn't long after James was back from his lap around the rink. "So, did you figure it out yet, Mr. Genius-Who-Knows-All?" He folded his arms.

But Greg pulled on his sarcastic modesty, "Oh, come on, I don't know everything!" But his exasperated modest expression suddenly turned mischievous. "Not everything, like I don't know if you've had sex before..." The absurdity and the personal-ness of the statement nearly knocked James off his balance and on the floor with a bruised tail bone. Greg loved getting under his skin and he knew just the right questions and when to ask them.

But James was able to keep himself upright as he caught up with Greg. "I've had sex before!"

"Well, then, that's one more thing I can add to my knowledge." His expression was straight and aloof like he couldn't care any less.

"What a thing to know."

"Yep." James shook his head and went back to trying to impress with his skating skills.

It was then a melodic voice started to sing lyrics in Greg's head. _Why am I feeling so good? Why am I feeling so strong? Why am I feeling when things look black that nothing could possibly go wrong? This has been a most unusual day: Love has made me see things in a different way.._

That voice, he knew that voice... It was a distant memory stored somewhere in the back recesses of his mind and trying to get free. It was a very distant memory, maybe from his childhood. He tried to place who it was when in the back of his skull echoed the voice again, only this time singing the lyrics of S_inging in the Rain_. "Gene Kelly!" Greg barked excitedly as he looked to James who was smiling back.

"Good work, Detective."

"Gene Kelly got you to skate?" Kelly taught this boy to tap dance, and sing; he taught him to skate as well? There was something a little suspicious about this. Greg gave a mildly suspicious stare as James talked more.

"You haven't seen _It's Always Fair Weather_? He does a brilliant performance on skates during one of the songs." James almost looked disbelieving that Greg didn't know.

But he really didn't. "No, I only know Kelly's songs. My grandmother loved his voice and he'd always be playing when I went to her house as a kid." James nodded but didn't say anything else. However, that didn't mean Greg was finished. "Can you show me?"

"Show you what?" He turned around, skating backwards as he talked to Greg again.

"You can do quite a few of his routines, I'm sure you learned this one! Do you remember it?"

James scoffed, "Of course I do."

"Then..?"

"Well, I'm not doing it here! I didn't practice that one as well as the others."

"Why not? You can do everything else!" By this point James was feeling like he had suddenly been thrown into some battle and he was losing.

Wanting off the rink he made his way off the first chance he got and glided his way over to the refreshment tables for something to snake on. Greg made sure to keep up.. less gracefully, of course. "Unfortunately, skates weren't part of my tap dancing recitals, so that one wasn't really top on my list to put my effort into. You may have talked me into dancing in an old abandoned theater, but if you think you're going to get me to skate/dance in front of these people, you can forget it! It's a difficult act!" Greg was smiling as he listened to James try and talk his way out of the situation. "I would most probably fall on my face a good dozen times if I tried to perform it, anyway."

When he turned his attention back to Greg he didn't like the mischievous sparkle in those blue eyes accompanied with that wicked smile. Giving his friend a strange look, he just turned back to the concession sigh to finding something to eat. But what he didn't realize was that Greg had figured it out. He could see it when James talked about Kelly. His so-called _admiration_ stretch a little more than a mere _I liked_.

"You had a crush on Gene Kelly, didn't you?" On hearing the question James suddenly lost his balance and footing and in a rookie mistake let his skates slip out from under him as tried desperately to claw into the table before he simply crashing to the ground. All at the mere mention of the thought of him having a crush on the handsome Gene Kelly.

Greg could only laugh at the sight before him. This was probably his best moment of getting under James' skin so far. At first he couldn't really get the man to react like he wanted, but sometimes it seemed as if God wanted the all-work-no-play James to loosen up a bit as well. And who better to give that task to than Greg House? Looking absolutely distraught, brown eyes wide with fear and embarrassment started before he started to pull himself back onto his feet. He tried desperately to shake the _how the hell did you know that_ look off his face.

But Greg was not about to let this moment get away, not until he heard it straight from the horses' mouth. "Did you watch his films and dream about those big brown eyes? Or that sweet voice of his singing to you?" He couldn't help the laughter in his voice as he asked his closeted Kelly fanboy friend about his crush.

"Eh-N-No!" James' face was so red that one would have thought he was standing on a stage naked.

This, this was pure gold. "Oooooooooo! You _did_!" Greg pointed out with his excitement going haywire. "You dreamed that Mr. Kelly would stroll up to you and take you in his arms as he sang sweet nothings in your ears all while he swept you off your feet!!"

"I DID NOT!!" James barked. Gawd, it was humiliating to go anywhere with this man. He felt like a kid with that fit of denial._ Smooth, James, real smooth, _He thought to himself,_ He will completely believe that I wanted nothing to do with Gene Kelly._

"_I adored Gene Kelly_, your words!" He said accusingly as he pointed a finger at James. "Oh, wow. When you said you adored him I thought it was an idol thing, a hero/mentor kinda thing. I wouldn't have even dreamed that you _actually_ wanted in Mr. Kelly's pants!" James was now hiding his face behind his hands and he seemed to try to make himself as small as he could while sitting at the table. Oh, the great things you learn about people. He only hoped that anyone over hearing this conversation that his friend was practically yelling wouldn't know who he was.

Though there was laughter and playful teasing, James heard no hateful words, jeer, or disgust from his friend like he had expected upon someone finding out about his love for another man. It was surprising. He expected a battle like his father and Uncle Thomas went through, not playful understanding.

Greg still chuckled as he took a seat next to James who just radiated shame. "Oh, that's the best news I've heard in a long while." He meant it for the laugh and dirt he now had on his friend, not that his buddy had been now known to like guys. In the beginning and now, Greg only viewed James as a good friend with good looks. Sure, he was attractive, but he wasn't thinking him as boyfriend material just yet.

Confused as to where the disgust was hiding, James picked up his head only to find Greg smiling and sitting next to him, merely a foot away. If Greg was disgusted with him in any way about his love for Gene Kelly, he showed no sign of it. "No yelling? No, _get the hell away from me?_"

"You expect me to hate you because you let it slip that you're gay?" He scoffed before continuing. "Not everyone in the world is a closed-minded bigot, Jimmy."

James corrected him in a hushed voice, "I'm not... gay. I like women. I just find the occasional good looking guy... attractive." He had to force himself to get out _attractive_ said it so low that Greg practically had to strain to hear.

But Greg didn't find it as astounding as James seemed to. "So you're bi, whatever. Not a big deal."

"What?" He spat, surprised but quickly hushed his voice again. "How is that not a big deal? You're not afraid I'll get my, I don't know, gay germs on you or something?"

Greg couldn't help but laugh at the comment. "Gay isn't a disease, Jimmy. You'd expect a med student to know better." He shook his head before giving up a little secret of his own. "You're _bi_, there's a difference. And besides, why should I be worried about your germs when I have my own to deal with?" He let the words slip from his mouth so easily and slyly that James actually had to repeat the sentence in his head once or twice before he understood what was just told to him. But to Greg, it wasn't really that much of a secret. He didn't much care who found out.

James' mouth was agape when he caught the secret and turned to his friend to speak but only silence presented itself. The silence was good enough for Greg to keep on going with the conversation.

"Uh-huh. That's what I thought."

The stunned man shook his head baffled with furrowed brows. "You… you're...?"

"_Bi_sexual?" He propped his chin in his hand with his elbow on the table and continued, "In the sense that I like the ladies as well as the occasional fellow? Perhaps. So, please close your mouth. It's not _that_ amazing, really." But to James it was nothing short of amazing. Here was a guy who was like him, except Greg didn't care about his reputation when it came to his love life. He just didn't care what other people thought of him or if they liked him or not.

James was just the opposite. Reputation was held high on his priority list as to him reputation meant everything. Good reputation meant kindness, friends, better job positions, more likelihood of being hired, and that people didn't not want to be around you. Reputation affected nearly every aspect of ones life and James was too afraid to jeopardize that in any way.

And heaven forbid his father ever finding out about how he felt.

After a break filled with nachos and the smoothing of ruffled feathers, the two managed to get some more skating in with James even trying to teach Greg to skate backwards (there were a few falls that Greg was expected to feel in the morning) with him even managing to pick it up relatively quickly despite his impatience and overzealousness to learn.

When closing time crept around, they turned in their skates and made their way out to the street. Outside as the chilly air started to make itself a nuisance to the two dressed in t-shirts, Greg tried to think of something they could do for the late hour. "I think there's a roller disco across town. You'd prob'ly be a big hit there."

James shook his head. "And where would we get skates? It ten o'clock, everything's closed."

"They probably sell skates there." But Greg already knew what the answer was going to be.

"No, I actually should get home. I got a class at nine."

He agreed. "Yeah, I actually have a pretty big test tomorrow as it is. I need to skim over some notes and sleep." And on the decision that it was time for their night of skating should be brought to it end, they walked and chatted until it was time to go their separate ways.

When James made it back to his apartment he was surprised how wore out he was from the hour or so of skating and the walk back. And even though nachos weren't an ideal dinner, he decided just to take a shower and get to bed.

--

It was somewhere in between the twenty-third and twenty-fifth minute of one o'clock a.m. when the sound of someone knocking hard at his door jolted James out of his heavy sleep. Not wanting the racket to disturb his neighbors, he sprang up from the bed and nearly fell flat on his face; no closer to being awake.

Clad in only a t-shirt and boxers, he opened the door to reveal an annoyed looking Greg House. "Gawd, what took you so long? I've been knocking forever out here."

So much for not disturbing the neighbors.

He stepped aside with a sleep yawn and let his late night guest in. Greg had expected to be greeted with the predictable annoyance anyone would express when suddenly woken from a dead sleep in the middle of the night, but instead was greeted with another sleepy yawn and a kindly spoken, "What's up?"

"You know, you're too nice for your own good. It's going to get you in trouble one day." He spat. He didn't know why it aggravated him. Maybe it was because he couldn't find it in himself to be so nice to someone in the middle of the night when he was tired like his friend.

"You're here to tell me I'm too nice?" He tried to stifle another yawn, but there was no harshness to his voice, only pure curiosity to why his friend was visiting so late at night.

"No, I'm here to see if you want to save a young man's life." With the sentence, Greg's mood seemed to go from slightly annoyed to seethingly annoyed and ready to kill but quickly became less intimidating when he let out a yawn himself.

James just hoped that he didn't do anything to trigger the annoyance and that he wasn't going to be caught in the line of fire. "Sure?"

"I need a place to crash. My retarded, brain-dead, supermodel, drama queen of a roommate has some friends over and doesn't seem to care if I get any sleep or not. I threatened him on pain of death and he still blew me off. So, Jimmy, save a young man's life and give me a place to sleep, 'cause if not I swear I'll do it!" he barked. "I'll kill him dead, him and his pretty little friends, too!"

James gave a chuckle at the interesting rendition of cross between a late night charity infomercial and the _Wizard of OZ_ House had just put on and nodded. "Sure," He gave yet another yawn. "You can sleep on the couch; you've already gotten a few naps on it as it is."

Greg watched as James grabbed a pillow from his bed and threw it to the couch and a blanket or two he pulled from the closet and tossed them the couch only this time with less desirable aim with said blankets hitting Greg (or that's what Greg thought jokingly, Jimmy was too nice to throw something as deadly as a blanket at him).

With goodnights being said, Greg asked to be woken up at seven thirty since he had a class at eight. James changed the alarm time.

--

It wasn't the loud angry sounds of an alarm clock killing his soul that slowly pulled Greg from sleeps' grip that morning nor was it the soreness from falling down while trying to skate the night before. It was the sounds and scents of breakfast.

He recovered quickly from his initial thought of _this isn't my room_ before he remembered paying his friend a late night visit for a place to sleep. And sleep he did. He found it a sorry thing when your friend's couch was more comfortable than your own bed. Slowly he sat up from his sprawled position, stretched and gave his head a good scratch. "Is that food?"

James just turned from his position in front of the stove with a frying pan in one hand and a spatula in the other (Greg could just imagine him wearing a frilly apron to complete the image). "Eggs and bacon with toast. Want some?"

"As much as you're willing to part with."

"Good, 'cause I cooked a lot." When Greg was done trying to rub the sleep out of his eyes, it was James' smiling face as well as him holding out a plate full of food to him that greeted him. He took the offered food and gave his wholehearted thanks while still in the back of his mind thinking James was way too nice for his own good.

Openly nice people only left the door opened for someone else to come in and walk all over them. Greg slightly believed the saying _the good die young_.

Breakfast was a calm and simple affair with just enough time for Greg to freshen up a little bit for class afterwards. With some errands of his own to run before his class at nine, James offered to give his friend a lift to campus so he wouldn't be late. Not one to turn down a free anything, Greg took him up on the offer. And when they arrived to his destination he almost could believe his friend had just told him to have a nice day. Still only one thought came to mind.

Too nice for his own good.


	6. Freezing Temperatures and a Stolen Kiss

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**_CHAPTER FIVE:_** _Freezing Temperatures and a Stolen Kiss_

_---  
_

After the first night that James allowed Greg to sleep on the couch it was almost like the man had moved into the apartment. From then on he slept on the couch just about every night and James didn't mind at all. It wasn't like he was using it for anything at night so his friend was more than welcome to sleep there if he wanted and as a bonus, with Greg around it made him feel just that little bit safer that there was someone else there. It wasn't that he was scared of being alone in the apartment. No, nothing that drastic. It's just that when you're unsure it's nice to have someone around.

Something else that was relatively welcoming was the fact that thanksgiving was nearly around the corner and with the three days off of school to see and be with family, James couldn't wait. This also got James a little curious about something. In the time he had known Greg, not once had he heard him talk about his family. He didn't even know if his parents were still alive or if he even had any siblings.

"You going to see your family?" James inquired casually.

He scoffed, "No, no. Let's just say that me and my parents aren't on the best terms right now." It was obvious just by how his mood changed at the question that it was definitely something Greg didn't want to talk about. James dropped it for now. There would be plenty of time for stuff like that later. But in reference to his question Greg just informed him that he was just going to stay at the school being he really didn't have anywhere else to go.

Maybe Greg was just being honest or maybe he knew the right words to get James to answer in the way he wanted, because the next words out of the young man's mouth was an invitation at the Wilson household for the yearly Thanksgiving feast. Deducing that James must have learned his culinary magic from his mother and pretty much loving whatever James was willing to cook, a dinner date at the Wilson's sounded like a mouth-watering experience.

"If there's free food you can count on me being there."

This would be the perfect way to spend a holiday. He'd have his family and his best friend there to spend the time with. He also knew his mother would be happy meeting Greg; she had worried long enough about her son not having any good friends.

James did wonder how his family would take to Greg. His friend was definitely a handful and an arrogant, selfish, son-of-a-bitch prick if you caught him at the wrong time. James thought himself crazy sometimes when he stopped to think about it. Obviously, if he was looking at some kind of friendship résumé and he had seen those words in a description as well as brash, snarky, and having a tendency to suffer from Acute Asshole Syndrome, James would have quickly overlooked the goods and put the résumé in the trash. The qualities in the good column such as smart, funny, and sometimes charming wouldn't be enough to make him change his mind.

Maybe it had something to do with those eyes.

James would just have to try and keep things good and calm. Sure, Greg probably wasn't the most ideal friend he could have had but he was a friend nonetheless.

--

The deeper they got into November the colder it seemed to get. Currently, leaving the warmth of inside was accompanied with a jacket or coat, day or night. The temperatures seemed to drop lower and lower with each passing night and was expected to drop into the low 30's if it hadn't already. Snow was predicted for the evening and getting home in the warmth was James' top priority that evening as he had stepped out his car and pulled his coat tighter around himself. It was just too cold to play around outside with what he was wearing. Out of habit, James blew on his hands even though the warmth didn't get past the leather of his black gloves. He trotted up the apartment steps when he suddenly noticed something, or rather someone, in a dark coat huddled to the door with his hands tucked under his arms.

It was only when he got closer he saw who it was in the low light of dusk. "Greg?"

Sleepy blue eyes looked up. "Good, your home. I thought I was going to freeze out here."

James was beyond baffled. "Why the hell are you sitting out here in the cold? You know, it's going to snow?"

"Feels like it." He mumbled before he slowly tried to stand. His whole body felt stiff as he worked on getting his legs under him as he grabbed tight to the brick work of the building to pull himself up but right as it felt like he was about to lose his balance and slip right back to the hard concrete of the stoop he felt James' gloved hand grab hold of his and helped him up.

"Why are you out here and not at least sitting the in hall outside my door?" he asked as he showed his key into the lock and opened the building door.

Greg followed close behind. "Well, I couldn't get in. The other times I just showed up there was someone around that would open the door.. but I guess it's too cold out."

"Well, let's get you warmed up. I'd be surprised if you don't catch a cold later. How long were you out there?"

He shrugged.

"You don't know? Why didn't you go in a nearby story or café or anything to wait for me? Why wait in the cold?"

He shrugged again.

The walk to James' apartment wasn't a long one being that his room was on the second floor. To Greg, the walk was a very welcomed one with each step working to loosen his muscles and warm him up.

When they were in the apartment, James quickly turned up the heat and went about removing his gloves and coat while he announced that he was going to be making some hot soup in a little bit and followed it by saying it would help warm him up. Greg only made his way and collapsed on James' bed not really caring what his friend would say to the matter. James paid him little mind as he hung his coat in the closet then made his way to the kitchen and started to dig in one of the drawers. Once he found what he was looking for he went to Greg; who by this point had removed his coat and let it fall to the floor beside the bed.

"Here, take this." He said holding out a key ring with Greg lazily reaching for it. "It's the spare keys for the apartment and front door. I'd rather give you a key than have you freeze to death on my doorstep again." But when Greg's hand brushed against his he quickly pulled away. "God, Greg, your hands are like ice!"

"I can't really feel them either." He said brokenly. There was no playful or light heartedness to his words, just exhaustion. "They're completely numb." He turned over from his belly on his back and slipped his cold hands under his arms before James shook his head and climbed up on the bed.

"And you're just going to lay there and suffer? Give me your hands." James pulled his right hand from under his arm and with careful strokes and controlled pressure he started to knead each finger trying to get the blood circulating to bring warmth and feeling back to them. Greg carefully sat up and kicked off his shoes before sitting cross legged as he watched James curiously. His friend worked skillful fingers, massaging each digit individually trying to warm them back up. The pressure against his sore and cold fingers hurt a bit when more feeling started to flood back but he didn't say a thing. He only let James continue. It was in that moment he realized something.

While he watched James work feeling back into his hands it had dawned on him that James, in the short time they had known each other, have given and shown him more love than anyone else he'd ever known. Sure, his own mother loved him but in his mind any mother that would let her husband beat her only child and not step in to defend him didn't compare to the love and attention he had gotten in the past two months from this guy here. And what proved his point was what happened a few days ago while he was working.

While waiting on a particularly impatient and annoying man, Greg may have said one thing too many, because before he knew it the customer had shot up from his seat and was ready to give Greg a good beating. It really wasn't that Greg didn't deserve it, he probably did, but that didn't mean his lunch guest was just going to sit there and turn a blind eye. James shot up from his table and immediately jumped in to break the fight and made absolute sure to make his point known that if the customer was going to lay one hand on Greg that he could have to deal with not only Greg but him as well.

Not used to anyone standing up for him at any age, this was a new concept for Greg. So to be in your early thirties and have a twenty-something year old stand up for you at your job and threaten bodily harm on someone who was threatening it on you was certainly flattering to say the least. That was James. He was a good and loyal friend and would do whatever he could to make his friends happy and safe and since at the moment it seemed that Greg was his only good friend, he was the center of all his loyal attention.

Thoughtful blue eyes looked up and watched the calm look on James' face as he kept massaging his hand. No one else would have taken the time to just sit there and massage the feeling and warmth back into his fingers and hands and he didn't try to fool himself in thinking there was.

Once James had finished with kneading his hand he let go. "How's that feel?"

"Jimmy, you're a fuckin' lifesaver." He groaned while he opened and closed his right hand as feeling continued to return. While he worked on that one hand James grabbed hold of his left and started to repeat the process but before James could really get into kneading and working warmth into his other hand Greg gently pulled his hand from his massaging grasp. James looked up without a word but flinched when a cold hand touched his face. Brown eyes watched him with a perplexed expression and before he knew it, Greg had leaned forward and kissed him.

Shocked and surprised, James was powerless to do a thing but once he got his bearings he quickly pushed Greg back. "What are you doing?!" he snapped, his brown eyes wide with fear.

Greg looked at a loss as he stumbled over his words, "I was… you… I, uhh, I was thanking you!"

"That's a weird way to thank someone." he said quietly with his gaze at the floor while he blushed fiercely.

"Yeah, well," Greg shrugged, recovering quickly before he sat up and gave an apologetic smile. "You're cute."

James still wouldn't look at him. "Just because I'm cute doesn't mean you can kiss me like that."

"Well, how _can_ I kiss you?"

"You can't kiss me at all!" he shot exasperated.

Greg found James' baffled self entertaining and gave a chuckle. "Why not?" He crawled a little closer.

Overwhelmed, James looked around the room for an answer. "Because you didn't ask!"

Greg let out an amused snort. "Can I kiss you?"

"No!" He shot back with furrowed brows with those brown eyes staring back at Greg still scared and confused. Greg gave a smirk as he furrowed his own brows mimicking his baffled friend. Knowing that going about things this way wasn't going to work Greg started on a different tactic. He went on what he knew and opened his mental book on reading James Wilson.

"You _like_ me." Greg said as he narrowed his eyes and staring James down watching for any telltale sighs.

"I do not!" he yelped back defiantly.

But Greg could read right passed his denial. "Yes, you do." He moved a little closer to his friend who was now nearly perched on the very foot of the bed.

Not knowing how to respond to Greg's last comment he kept quiet. He wasn't sure he could truly defend himself on something he really didn't understand himself.

Seeing that his friend was starting to shut down on the extremely direct and confronting approach he tried to go about things another way. He sat back down and turned the conversation and gave it a little more of a serious tone. It was completely obvious that James did like him, all the evidence screamed it but what was wrong? What was he afraid of?

He knew James would respond to uncertainty and insecurity. James lived to reassure and comfort. "Are you scared of me?" Blue eyes tried to pry into anxious brown eyes but were cut short when James let out a defeated sigh with his gaze falling from his again.

"No, I'm not scared of you." James didn't look any closer to going anywhere so Greg tried to make his way closer. Seeing that his friend wasn't going to flee he continued his prying questions.

"Then what's the problem, hmm?" he reached up and brushed his fingers through James' hair. James flinched at the sudden touch again but didn't push the hand away. To Greg it was obvious that he was trying to fight his own feelings when James eyes fell closed before he quickly closed them way tighter and pulled away. Greg had never seen someone first hand try so hard to deny themselves what they wanted. Especially when it came to a young person dealing with the prospects of sex. Seeing again that this hands-on tactic wasn't working he quickly backed off. Making James feel uncomfortable wasn't going to help his cause in any way. "What are you so afraid of? Are you afraid I'll hurt you?" James only shook his head. "I'm going to get it out of you one of these days." He warned before he stretched back out on the bed apparently giving up his seduction tactics for the time being. One thing he was also good at reading at times was when to give it a rest. James wasn't suddenly going to give in if he hadn't already. This was clearly going to take some work. Though Greg was warmed up more than when he was first found out on the steps, he could still use some help raising his temperature. The soup James had mentioned would really hit the spot about now. "Didn't you say something about making soup?"

Knocked from his thought of needing to be on top guard and a possible lock down, he blinked before scrubbing his face with his hands. "Yeah," James spoke his voice muffled from behind his hands. "I… I need to get that started. How's chicken soup sound?" Greg could have kicked himself. Because of what he tried to pull James was now completely thrown off and out of whack. But it was like that good old Third Law of Newton's: _For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction__. _Even though Newton was talking about motion and such he found it worked just the same here. By trying to push James he inevitably made him uncomfortable and confused.

Greg hated awkward moments and it looked like tonight was going to be chock-full of them. He tried to clear the air the best he could by a good ruthless joke. "Are you going to make some Chicken Soup for the Closeted Gay Man's Soul?" James turned and shot him a glare signaling not to even joke about it or push any buttons.

_That's it, Greg. Open mouth, insert foot._

He shook the thought from his mind and quickly tossed his hands up in surrender as he got the idea. "I get it! Sorry, let me redo that. I'd love some chicken soup, how long will it be before it's ready?"

"A little while." He watched as his friend stood from the bed and made his way into the kitchen and started to pull out various things he'd need to make the dish. While James used the task of making soup to busy himself, Greg just sat and thought while he watched his friend.

He knew what was going on, though he didn't know the exact cause of it, he did understand. James was scared. He was deathly afraid to give in to how he felt. Sure, he knew James was all about reputation and at this point in time being gay still really wasn't looked upon as kindly as it will be in a few years (he hoped), but would he really deny his feelings and wants to have people look upon him kindly?

Yes, yes he would.

Greg also knew that it would fall purely on him to do something about it. If he just sat back and waited on James he would be waiting forever because it seemed that James was willing to sit in his own personal hell in return for how people viewed him. Amazingly what made the situation even worse was that it didn't look like James had even realized that he liked him until he himself pointed it out to him.

It was just more evidence that James wasn't going to do anything about it. He didn't even recognize what his own feelings were trying to tell him and all because Greg was a guy, and not a woman. He was going to try his best to break James out of this. No one should live their whole lives in the closet. Not if Greg had any say in the matter.

_Good work, Greg,_ He scolded himself. _Looks like you're__ managing to fall for a guy who's afraid of his own sexuality._ He knew it was going to be hard not just on James but hard on himself as well. Greg was used to taking things fast and not really thinking them through. Maybe this was why his relationships never really lasted all that long. In the momentary fits of denial he always blamed it on the fact that his partner, male or female, just couldn't handle his loud and headstrong personality. But it looked if he wanted so much as a kiss or any other type of affection from James he would have to take care with his every step. He didn't want to scare this one away.

And even though James was working on soup that in no way meant he wasn't letting his thought run wild either. He could have come right out and told Greg that he didn't want to be disowned like his uncle was or that he didn't want to be looked at as a sin against God in his father's eyes. He was just too family-oriented to bare the thought of having his family turn their backs on him. He didn't want to think of what it would be like to be all alone and forgotten. But he wouldn't have been completely alone, of course he'd have Greg to deal with and with all of his worrying he also had his schooling to think about. If he was disowned by the family how was he going to pay for school? He'd have to take out some student loans like Greg.

Upon further thought he realized Greg was right but what unnerved him more than anything else was the fact that he didn't even see it. He didn't even realize he was really attracted to his friend and he wasn't really sure how he could possibly miss that! It's something you hear about all the time on TV and from friends, it's not something that happens to you personally.

Something he did find amusing in a sense was how you just can't choose who you're attracted to and Greg was a prime example. If someone had told him in the very beginning after he had met Greg House for the first time at _Anastasia's_ that he was going to fall in love with him and after their relationship ended and twenty years later he'd still love his friend, he might have believed them. If they would have told him the same thing two weeks later James would have laughed in their face.

Because really, how could he fall in love with someone as arrogant and snarky as Greg House? But if asked, James would be the first one to say how brilliant Greg was to anyone who doubted it. That was one thing James could never deny. He was Greg's friend and he'd do anything he could to protect him.

After much though from both parties and an extreme overload of uneasy silence like Greg had predicted, the soup was ready. It was a simple chicken soup with rice but managed to hit the spot perfectly. As they both sat quietly and ate at the small table near the balcony's sliding doors, things were still quiet as neither man uttered a word. To Greg this was starting to become unbearable and most times there was nothing he hated more than uncomfortable situations like this. Grasping for anything he could some form of normality was reached when he randomly started to sing a November's potion of Carole King's _Chicken Soup with Rice. _"In November's gusty gale I will flop my flippy tail, and spout hot soup - I'll be a whale! Spouting once, spouting twice. Spouting chicken soup with rice!"

As ridiculous and almost out of place it was to hear Greg sing the children's song, it did the trick. James burst out laughing so much that the soup he had just managed to swallow nearly ended up coming out his nose. And the sight of seeing his friend laughing so hard was more than enough to get him started off, too.

And just like that their awkward tension was broken.


	7. Multisystem Organ Failure via Cherries

---

_**CHAPTER SIX:** Multi-system Organ Failure via Cherries_

---

While digging around for his keys outside the apartment doors Greg let out a relieved sigh. Work had almost seemed like it would never end. All he wanted was some food and relaxation… but food more than anything. When he did finally find the keys an idea came to mind. Always looking for a good opportunity to give his roommate a scare, he unlocked the front door as quietly as he could before he abruptly threw it open.

A loud gasp filled the room before he saw James quickly pick up the nearest book and swiftly bury his nose in it. Greg paid the action little mind when the various staples of a thawed out pot roast, peeled potatoes and carrots got his attention quickly enough.

"So, what's for dinner, my sweet?" He asked playfully as he snatched up one of the many carrots on the counter and started to eat it.

"Pot roast, mashed potatoes, carrots, corn..." He answered with his face still hidden away. Normally James was more than happy to greet his Romeo with a smile and Greg doubted that anything in that book could be more interesting than him (no one said the man didn't have an ego). Plus, he hadn't seen him turn a page since he walked through the door.

"Wha'cha readin' there, Tiger?" Once the words left his mouth in that all-knowing way James knew the jig was up.

"Uhh..." He stalled as he read a few lines, trying to figure it out. "I... hmm." Only realizing that he was digging himself a deeper hole, he stopped himself.

Greg was now sporting a big grin as he took a few steps closer to the bed. "So, you gonna show me what you're hiding there?"

"I'm not… hiding anything." James would beat himself with a stick if he had one handy. How could he possibly be _more_ transparent?

"Yeah, and I can fly." Greg scoffed indifferently before continuing. "So, how about you put that book down? You know I'm going to find out one way or another." James knew better than to think his threat a bluff, but that didn't mean that he wasn't going to put up some kind of fight. Before he knew it Greg was standing in front of him and the bed. If he had a defense now was the time to deploy it.

James quickly dropped the books and covered his eyes just as Greg was reaching for it. To Greg that was just like hiding the toy mouse out of the cat's view; it only fueled the curiosity more. He wasn't going to let a little thing like hands get in the way of his burning curiosity! That wasn't how it worked with him. Instantly he tackled his unwilling friend and tried to see what the big secret was.

Amidst the tussle he was glad to hear that James wasn't really all that upset with the fact that he was obviously barging _way_ into his personal space. It was his laughing that gave it away but his cries of _no's_ and _don'ts_ said he still wasn't ready to give anything up just yet.

It really didn't take much to pin James down being that he wasn't using his hands to keep himself free. All it really took was Greg sitting on his legs and him holding down his shoulders with his forearms as he worked on trying to pull those hands out of the way. When he finally did manage to pull them away everything seemed to come to a screeching halt. It was the sight of those big doe with shades of green smudged neatly around them that had Greg staring openly. He could tell James was starting to become a little wary of the situation while being pinned down to the bed with his roommate hovering over him and staring at his eyes but to his attacker it only made everything all that more… amusing.

And as if to prove his point a sudden faint smile started to creep onto Greg's features before finally he couldn't hold it in. He burst out laughing and nearly collapsed onto his trapped roommate. This was the last thing he had expected to find. He wondered when he wasn't around if James wandered the streets as a drag queen. Oh, he could only imagine. "Jimmy!" He tried to speak but he couldn't get it out because of all the laughing at the sight still in his mind of James with full makeup and a dress in some bar chatting and laughing with all the patrons. "Green _eye shadow_?" he bellowed before he started to wipe the tears of laughter out of his eyes.

"Shut up! I was _curious_!" He spat defensively while he wriggled out from under his laughing friend.

Once free, he stood and quickly made his way into the bathroom leaving the door ajar. Surprisingly, his scuffle with Greg hadn't really messed with his handiwork. Brown eyes stared in the mirror lined with two shades of green eye shadow and an even darker, almost black, green eye liner. It was all very modestly done and held a somewhat stylish elegance to it. "Oh God! Jimmy, were you trying to be a pretty lady?" Greg called from the main room before the end of the sentence was nearly indecipherable when he started to laugh harder.

"No, I was not!" He shot back, vexed, from the open bathroom door. "I just wanted to see what I'd look like!" he promptly grabbed the toilet paper and started to work on getting the makeup off.

"Jimmy, if you wanted to look like a pretty lady I could pull some stings and have you looking gorgeous!" A light bulb turned on in Greg's head as he quelled his laughter. "_Oh my God, Jimmy_! JimmyJimmyJimmyJimmy!"

"WHATEVER IS ABOUT TO COME OUT OF THAT MOUTH I DON'T WANT TO HEAR IT!" James yelled before Greg burst into the bathroom by throwing the barely opened door the rest of the way with it slamming against the doorstop. "GREG!" he yelped after nearly taking his eyes out with the toilet paper he was using to wipe off the eye shadow.

"You should totally let me get someone to just do you all up nice and pretty! Just once!"

James grabbed a new wad of toilet paper. He wondered if Greg really thought there was a chance in hell that he was going to consider even considering that ridiculous idea. "Are you actually serious?" He looked into the mirror at excited blue eyes as Greg nodded hopefully.

James only looked at him a moment before he let out a sharp, shrill laugh and continued trying to get the eyeliner off and failing miserably. The more he messed with it, the more it smudged and evened out and looked even more alluring… or alluring in Greg opinion. The crazily overdone makeup normally found in drag sort of freaked him out a little, but this... it was nice. It brought out the beautiful mahogany-stained finish of James' eyes.

"If you think I'd ever even consider that you really are crazy." Seeing that this was a battle he had absolutely no chance of winning, Greg's stomach opted to return to the kitchen to see what else was out and waiting for him to eat. Silently agreeing, he simply made his exit of the bathroom without a word.

It didn't take long for James to realize he was fighting a losing battle as well. The rough constant rubbing of the toilet paper was staring to make the delicate skin around his eyes sore and red. So with still a hint of green and eyeliner mostly tucked near the outer corners of his eyes and lower lids he decided to give up and resume the battle in the shower after dinner.

He washed his hands and made his way out the bathroom drying his hands with a dish towel only to find Greg gnawing on what looked to be his second carrot. "Greg! Will you please stop eating all the ingredients? I know it's hard, but really?" He tried to shoo him out of the small kitchen but was only greeted with a cheeky smile at the fact that he still have some of the makeup visibly on. Once he realized that his verbal tactics were doing no good to get the nuisance to dispel from the kitchen when Greg only grabbed a potato and proceeded to take a bite. James shook his head and let out a groan before physically pushing him out of the kitchen area. "How do you expect me to cook if you keep eating everything?" He went back to the counter and noticed a few other things had been nicked and eaten while he was in the bathroom. "How many of the potatoes did you eat?" James yelped, disbelieving.

Greg only shrugged.

"_Raw_ potatoes?"

"I put salt on them." He answered as he reached out for the said shaker. James rolled his eyes and handed it to him.

He started to dig in one of the lower cabinets until he found the large pot he was looking for and put it on the stove. "Well, I see you didn't touch the meat. But that would only make you sick eating it raw." He laughed, "I'm almost willing to bet that if it was cooked, you would have eaten the whole thing." Greg only gave a half hearted shrug like he was saying _Yeah, you got me_.

"I'm starving." He defended while he worked on finishing off the potato.

"Well, it's not _my_ fault you didn't eat lunch. I tried to give you some of mine."

"Yeah, well... I wasn't feeling salad. I'm a meat and sweets kind of guy." He threw himself onto the couch, stretching out and tossed his head to the side watching James prepare for his cooking magic. "I am, however, feeling a good, home cooked pot roast."

"Good, because that's all I'm cooking tonight."

"Aww, Jimmy," He whined. "Don't be so pissy-"

"If you start making jokes about me being pissy or bitchy or acting like a girl you can kiss your potion of dinner goodbye!"

It worked. "Oh, did I say pissy? No, I meant 'Why, Jim Dear, you are as pleasant as the mornin' sunrise.'" He announced with a thick southern twang.

"Why, thank you, Darling. And no worries, your flattering sarcasm is safe with me."

"Good, because you can't take that from me!" he cried dramatically.

"Wouldn't dream of it. You'd be no fun without the witty remarks." A few minutes went by as James continued to prepare dinner, but it was the nagging feeling that someone was watching him that kept pulling him out of his thoughts. There, still laid out on the couch, Greg watched his every move. James let out a sigh and made his way to the fridge and dug in one of the lower drawers and pulled out a bag. He made his way to the couch with Greg still watching him. "Here, this should hold you over 'til dinner, right?" and with that dropped a two pound bag of fresh cherries on his lap.

"Yes," He said opening the bag. "But that's _not_ going to make me stop watching you."

"Damn... I guess this is the drawback of having a studio apartment." Greg only laughed and popped a cherry into his mouth and pulling off the stem. It wasn't long before James continued with the helpful information. "Oh, and try not to eat too many of those or you'll get sick." He turned to look at Greg and was greeted with a look of mock shock with wide blue eyes and a mouth full of cherries. James just shook his head and sighed, "I don't want to hear you whining that your stomach hurts later."

"Errm?"

"Never mind."

After Greg had eaten the cherries he had stashed in his mouth like a hamster he tried to pull out his guilt card. "Aww, Jimmy, you don't want to take care of me?"

"Oh, I know what you're trying pulling!" he pointed out, quickly becoming familiar with his friend's tactics. "Not if it's a situation that can be avoided." he turned back and continued with his task at hand but he should have known Greg wasn't finished.

"Hey, Jimmy, you wanna see a trick?"

James looked to his work and, since he didn't have anything on the stove just yet, thought it was alright to indulge. He turned to Greg with his brows raised he tilted his head to the side with an expectant look as he waited for whatever it was that Greg wanted to show him. Greg gave a big grin as he pulled a fresh cherry out the bag and put it in his mouth.

James knew there had to be more to this. Eating a cherry was hardly a trick so he kept quiet and continued to watch. Once he ate the cherry and spat the pit into an ashtray and was left with a stem. "And now for the trick!" he declared and put the stem in his mouth. James watched as Greg worked his teeth and tongue behind closed lips before moments later pulled out a tied cherry stem.

James laughed and clapped his hands as Greg gave him a lazy yet triumphant smile in return. "Nice, and did you think a little trick like that was going to have me turned on and panting like a dog?" He gave him a wink.

"…of course not!" he fumbled, nearly swallowing a cherry pit. He was trying to get James to smile. His intention wasn't to get him hot and bothered, though now that he thought about it, it would have been nice.

--

When dinner was ready James had set the table and before he could even get a word out Greg was already at the stove and serving himself. When they were settled at the table and eating Greg asked curiously to where or how James had come to acquire the eye shadow he still slightly wore.

"I bought it."

"From the _store_?" He was floored. James wouldn't kiss him without encouragement behind closed doors but he'd go out and buy makeup from a store?

"Well," he explained, "I played the part of the dumb boyfriend. I first found the color I wanted and took it to where they had the paint samples. I grabbed the color that most matched it and asked the woman behind the counter if they matched." He smiled as he thought of his ingenious plan and forked a piece of pot roast. "I told her if I didn't get the right color, my girl would be pissed at me."

Greg had to admit it was a cunning plan. "She believed you?"

"To my knowledge she did. She even told me what a good idea sending your boyfriend out with a paint sample was." Greg only laughed and shook his head before he looked from his plate at James who was still smiling and working on loading more food onto his fork.

"It's nice."

"Hmm?" he replied with raised eyebrows and a chewing mouth full of pot roast.

Greg gestured toward him with his fork. "The color. Brings out your eyes."

James didn't add anything to his complement just rolled his eyes and kept eating.

--

After dinner, just as James had said, the inevitable happened. Greg was in pain. "Jimmy, I have some multi-system organ failure going on." he whined.

James closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Where?"

"Around this area..." He said, gesturing to his lower abdomen.

James knew it. "I told you not to eat so many cherries!"

"Hey! I was hungry and you handed me a bag of cherries and told me not to eat! What was I supposed to do? I would have eaten a horse if you had given me one!"

"Even the tail?" James joked with Greg looking at him like he was a moron.

"No, I think I would somehow fashion it onto a belt, Jimmy."

"Hey, don't blame me, I _told_ you!" he pointed accusingly.

"You told me, you told me. I know." Greg whined. "But now I need something for my failing organs..." With a nod, James got up from the bed and wandered into the bathroom before reappearing with a bottle and grabbed a spoon off the counter.

"Here, take some of this." He said as he handed him a bottle of Pepto-Bismol and spoon.

"Wait, you want me to take this nasty pink shit?" he grimaced at the thought.

James wondered when his roommate had become a five year old boy. "Yeah, if you want your indigestion to go away. So stop being a baby and take it. Stop whining." But Greg only adopted something between an innocent and hurt look. "Take it or I'll shove it down your throat." He growled in response.

Greg smiled and fluttered his eyelashes. "Promise?"

"Please don't tempt me."

Greg did as he was told and took the correct dosage but not without complaint. At least that was better than hearing him whine about his supposed organ failure. It didn't take too long for the pink bismuth solution to take effect. Glad that that was out of the way he realized it didn't look like all the chores were finished.

James, as usual, was left with the dishes which he didn't mind too much. He found if you didn't spend forever fighting about them they actually get done a lot quicker. It also looked as if his hard work didn't go unnoticed. Once he had his guard down and his back turned to the room, Greg snuck up quietly until he was right behind James. He watched over the said man's shoulder while he washed the dishes as he waited for the right time to pounce. And knowing that now was as good a time as any he quickly pounced and wrapped his arms around James' shoulders and giving him a loud kiss on the corner of his mouth.

It had been a week or so since that cold November evening when Greg had first kissed James and since then he had been working on getting James familiar and comfortable with the affection. Progress has slowly been made. James didn't seem to mind the subtle bits of attention Greg would lay on him; the problem as returning it. Greg knew persistence was key and a simple rejection wasn't going to stop or detour him..

James tried to look aloof and uncaring as he continued to wash the dishes but he couldn't hide the blush creeping on his face. It only made Greg smile more. He rested his chin on James' shoulder as he continued watching him clean the dishes. "Wha'cha doin'?"

"You had eyes last I checked."

"Jimmy, don't be so pi-…, errm, don't be an ass." He switched quickly, believing calling him an ass was better than calling him pissy. "Dishes can wait, can't they?"

James turned his head enough to just be able to look at Greg from the corner of his eye. "Wait for what?"

"Wait for me?" he sounded hopeful.

James let out an amused snort before he turned off the water in the sink. "And what's so important about you that it takes precedence over washing the dishes?" in no way were his words meant to be hurtful, and Greg knew that.

"Just me. I'm more important than anything else." He purred as he nuzzled the back of James' neck. "'specially dirty dishesss..." He hissed with his breath warm on his skin.

Greg felt the shiver that shot down James' body.

"Come on, Jimmy, who's it gonna hurt if you just… give in?" he brought a hand up and ran a long finger up his Adam's apple.

Greg felt him swallow.

"What are you so afraid of?" He ghosted the back of his hand against James' cheek. "It's not like I'm going to intentionally hurt you or anything." James' wet hands gripped the side of the sink as Greg stayed at his back while he tried to work his seductive magic, coaxing his roommate to give in to temptation. He placed hot, searing kisses from the back of James' neck and around behind his ear before he whispered hotly in his ear, "I want to take you to places you've never been before. I want to hear you moan my name as I show you what sex is supposed to feel like." He licked his neck.

James' breath hitched at the mention of sex. He could almost feel Greg smiling.

"You want it, don't you?"

James took a hard swallow. This was going somewhere and it was going there fast. He kept his hands firmly on the sink. "I can't.", he finally got out.

"Jimmy," he groaned, "You're not a priest. You _can._"

He turned around and got a look at Greg that he wished he hadn't. suddenly he was staring seduction right in the face. Not to mention that they were now face to face and he was pinned against the kitchen sink. Dark blue eyes filled with lust greeted him with a leering smile. Oh, Greg certainly put up a good argument, but it didn't change the fact that all of this was still so sudden and frightening. It turned out that James had one last trick up his sleeve that might let him get away this one time. "Alright…I bite."

Greg leered, "Good."

But that wasn't what he meant. "When I bite it's not a good thing. I bite to survive. I take chunks." He growled to Greg as he worked on kissing his jaw line.

And it was the feeling of Greg's warm lips and rough stubble leaving his face that told him he may have just gotten the meaning of what was said. "You'd gnaw me to shreds for this?"

"No, I'm just not ready for anything more." He said, as serious as he could at that moment.

"But this, this is okay?" he nodded, gesturing at what was going on at that moment.

"This…" James trailed off as he thought about it. "...this is okay." And with that, he placed a hand behind Greg's neck and pulled him into a kiss with Greg readily returning it. It looked like Saint Jimmy had an iron will and put his foot down with _Thou shall not give into temptation_ as his motto... well, not give in _completely_.

James found that stubble was a new and unusual feeling. It was something he was sure he would get used to with time. It was, however, a constant reminder that who he was kissing was definitely not any of the well-kept girls he was used to being with.

After a while of just letting each other get close and get used to the idea of being together it was a loud yawn that decided it was time to get some sleep. Tomorrow was going to be a busy and exciting day. It wasn't everyday James brought his supposed boyfriend to meet his parents.

And in an attempt to get into James most good of graces (not that he wasn't already), Greg put on the sweetest performance he could possibly muster with James allowing him to sleep in the queen sized bed with him instead of the couch. Amazingly enough to Greg, the bed was more comfortable than the couch by tenfold. Maybe it was all that time sleeping in that crappy bed of his that he got into the mindset that beds were just bad.

The sleeping arrangements were simple enough as each had their side of the bed; James chose the left and gave Greg the right. Greg really didn't care which side he slept on as long as he got to sleep. Also surprising to Greg was the fact that after what had happened in the kitchen his bedmate didn't immediately default to cuddling or anything of the sort. He was almost sure James would be one of those people who were just addicted to cuddling. No, not at the moment. The only bit of touch the two had was James' back pressed against Greg's side. That was just fine with him and it was comforting to feel someone close while you slept.

Greg knew he was a breath away from getting James to give in completely that night. He'd just have to try his luck again later. Because really, there was only so long James could hold up that wall before he let it fall. But, unfortunately, it looked like that might have to be put on hold until at least after Thanksgiving. Tomorrow, after they were both finished with classes for the day, they planned to drive on out to James' parents. When the next day came, they could eat to their heart's content. Hopefully. He wasn't too sure how James would feel about him trying to cop a feel while having Thanksgiving with his family.

At least tonight wouldn't be as awkward as that first night; James was learning to give in.


	8. I'm Meeting Your Family, Have A Cookie!

---

_**CHAPTER SEVEN: **I'm Meeting Your Family, Have a Cookie!_

---

Three days of Freedom.. It had a nice lovely ring to it, well, not in the rhyming sort but the three days of no school or work kind of sort. This is how Greg felt as he walked into the studio apartment he shared with his lovely boy, Jimmy.. who seemed to be rather busy at the moment.

"What are you doing?" he asked when he saw James rush into the bathroom. He half expected to find him with more makeup on like before but it looked like that wasn't the case this time. Dressed in a relaxed t-shirt, jacket and jeans, James went about the apartment packing anything that looked like they might need.

"I'm packing. We're going to my parent today, remember?" He started to grab shampoos, deodorants, toothbrushes and toothpastes and was slipping them into a bag.

"Yeah, I remember, but don't you think you're packing a little… heavy?" he asked as he walked up to the two bags that already sat in ready to go next to the bed. He tapped on with his foot to make his point.

James poked his head out the bathroom with his glasses hanging on to the tip of his nose. "Oh, I, uhh.. packed for you." With that little comment he quickly went back into the bathroom to continue more packing.

"What? I can pack my own bags, thank you very much!" he shot as he eyed the two bags. "Could this possibly seem anymore domestic?" he sighed to himself. Really, he could pack his own things; he didn't need James to do it for him. On further thought Jimmy did say that they needed to get on the road when he got off work to avoid traffic.. and if he packed as fast as he needed he may have forgotten things..

Resigning the thought to the back of his mind he kicked the bag next to his foot lightly again.

"They're not.. mixed together, are they?"

"No," he heard from the bathroom. "Your stuff's in the black duffle bag." With a shake of his head Greg looked around to see if there was anything he needed to pack that James might have possibly forgotten.

--

It was suddenly obvious James was worked up about something. Already forgetting about the fact that James had packed for him, Greg laid back lazily on the couch and watched as James went from one side of the room to the other rifling through just about everything he could get his hands on. They apparently were supposed to have left ten minutes ago but James' impromptu search seemed to put everything at a standstill.

Finally when he had given up he stopped in front of the couch where Greg only stared calmly and waited for him to say whatever had been driving him mad the past ten minutes. "Have you seen my glasses? I've searched the whole apartment but I can't find them." He sounded rather annoyed. And he should be; he just had them.

A smile slowly started to grow across Greg's face. "Cute." Was all he said. James was about to jump his case on what the hell that was supposed to mean but stopped when Greg lifted his right hand and used his index finger to tap near the corner of his eye.

Confused, James repeated the same action on himself but instead of his finger taping against skin it hit hard plastic.

"Oh.. well, then." He said embarrassed as he turned to grab his bag but before he could get completely out of reach Greg grabbed him and pulled him onto the couch.

It was time to find out what had James so worked up. "What's up?"

"I, uh. My bag.." He reached for his bag but when he looked back at Greg he was greeted with a skeptical look. "..what?"

"You sure this is a good idea? You're acting like a nervous mess."

"What? I am not!"

"Oh, and losing your glasses on your face is perfectly normal." He said sarcastically before adding, "Look, if you don't want me to go just say so. I'll stay here." And to prove his point that it was no big deal, he laid back once again on the couch and stretched his long legs out onto James' lap.

He wanted to take Greg with him; he didn't want to leave him all alone in the apartment. He was just nervous. God was he nervous! He was be bringing his boyfriend home to meet his family. Sure he wouldn't introduce Greg as his boyfriend, but still, if his father got one whiff at the idea and that would be it, he'd be done for. He'd just.. have to tread very lightly.

"No, you're coming, but we have to get something straight," He took a hard swallow and looked back to Greg who was waiting. "What goes on between us here has to stay here and when I say here, I mean here, in this apartment, in Baltimore. Not Philadelphia." James didn't miss that small tiny bit of hurt on Greg's face but it was gone in an instant. "I'm sorry, but you have to understand. I can't.." he trailed off and looked down with a sigh before he forced himself to continue. "..they can't know. I, I can't tell them." Brown eyes pleaded from behind glasses for Greg to understand.

Greg turned away as he thought about it for a moment or two. James was still willing to side with his reputation and didn't seem to care how he thought or felt about the matter. He gave James a hard and irritated stare before growling, "I'll see what I can do. And let's get _this_ straight, I hope you don't expect me to make any promises to that." James knew not to push it.

Greg took his legs from James' lap and stood from the couch before grabbing his bag and throwing it over his shoulder. "Yeah, okay." He replied sheepishly as Greg made his way out the door. The more he played what he had said back in his head the more horrible it sounded. It was wrong of him to ask (or tell in his case) him to leave his feelings behind and Greg had every right to react as he did. James just hoped they could slip back in each other's good graces before they reached his parent's house.

James slipped off his glasses and rubbed his eyes before he pinched the bridge of his nose with his eyes still closed tight. He let out a sigh before he stood up and grabbed his bag and headed out the door after Greg.

--

The two hour trip from school to his parents went well. Not long after they had started the drive Greg had fallen asleep which allowed James to try and think how to introduce him. He knew he was making a bigger deal out of a simple thing. They'd walk through the door, he'd be greeted with hugs and smiles, they'd ask who Greg was being that he didn't tell anyone he was coming.. he wanted it to be a surprise. But they'd ask who he was, be introduced, there would be hand shakes and waves all around for him and everything will be fine. He told himself this a hundred times and tried to put his mind on driving.

It was about an hour or so into the trip Greg woke up in a much better mood than when they had left. "Are we there yet?" he asked in his most annoying, childish voice.

"Nope, we still have an hour." He said, keeping his eyes to the road.

"Damn." He started to dig around by his feet before he found what he had been looking for and sat back against his seat.

Ever curious, James took a quick glanced over at his passenger. "What're you eating over there?"

"Cookies. Want some?" He answered with a full mouth.

"Yes, please."

With a smile, Greg dug in the box and pulled out a chocolate chip cookie. "Open up."

"What? I can take a hand off the steering wheel, you know." He stated a matter-of-factly but didn't take his eyes off the road.

Greg shrugged. "But this is more fun! Open." Giving a slight roll of the eyes James did as he was told with a cookie promptly being shoved into his mouth. With a free hand James took his cookie and worked on eating it in bites.

"You know, me eating cookies the way you want adds a useless step. I have to pull the cookie out my mouth when you could just hand it to me." He popped in the last bite of the cookie.

"It's really no fun that way." Greg noted as he dug in the box for another cookie and took a bite.

"Me eating a cookie has to be fun for you?"

"Everything has to be fun for me. If not the world ends."

"I'm sure it does." James chuckled. But after a small fit of silence James got to thinking more about what he had said to Greg earlier and knew he had to do something. He couldn't leave things at that. "Greg?" he glanced over at his friend before he turned back to the road. "I'm sorry about earlier, it was wrong-mhhp!" his apology was abruptly interrupted by another cookie being shoved into his open mouth. He quickly pulled it out. "Not while I'm talking, please!"

"Oh, you were talking? My bad." He said insincerely. "I just saw open mouth and my brain screamed, _shove a cookie in!_"

"I'm trying to apologize! I thought you'd be thrilled about that!"

"Oh, well, in that case, my bad squared."

James shook his head and took a bite of his cookie and continued where he had left off. "Like I was saying, I'm sorry I asked you to leave your feelings in Baltimore. It was wrong of me to even -"

"Yeah, yeah, you're forgiven." Greg quickly interrupted again and added, "Want a cookie?"

"I'm still working on this one, thanks."

After a few more quiet minutes and more cookies eaten Greg started conversation back up. "So, what's your parents like?"

"I don't know… like parents?" he shrugged as he held out his hand. "Are there any more cookies?" not feeling like really going out of his way to shove another cookie down James' throat he just simply placed on in his open hand.

"Well, are they nice? Are they mean? Do they beat you? Do they kiss you?"

"They're nice. I wouldn't be surprised if my mother hugs you when you come through the door." Well, that put him at ease. It wasn't that he thought that the Wilson couple would be vicious or mean; if they were James wouldn't have turned out half as nice and trusting as he was. It was just a nice thing to know and another new concept for him.

--

"I'm bored, when will we get there?" Greg whined as he worked on making the empty cookie box into something more entertaining than an empty box.

"We're here." James announced as he pulled the car up on a curb in front of a nice brick suburban home. Excited at just the idea of getting out the car and being able to move his legs again, Greg tossed his empty box, unbuckled his seatbelt and threw the car door open. It was the happy cries of being on land and the fact that he all but thrown himself onto the ground that cause James to put a hand to his face trying to cover his smile. "Will you stop acting like you've taken leave of your senses?" He called from the driver's seat before he stepped out the car.

He popped the trunk and walked over to the back of the car before grabbing their bags. James made sure to drop Greg's bag on him as he still laid sprawled out on the front lawn. "Aww, Jimmy, you were doing good. Couldn't you have just carried my bag inside, too?"

James only shot him a _yeah right_ glance. "I'm not your pit pony. Carry your own things." With a shake of his head, Greg sat up, grabbed hold of his bag and followed James to the front door. The two waited patiently for someone to open the door after the bell had been rung and while never one to miss out on an opportune moment; Greg flicked James' unsuspecting ear. With a shocked shake of his head, James turned to asked what Greg was trying to accomplish when the front door opened.

"Jim! We were wondering when you were going to show up!" It was obvious to Greg where James got his good looks from as the forty-eight year old Jack stood in the open doorway. With big brown eyes and well kept brown hair; Greg could almost envision this is how James was going to look in twenty years. "Come in, come in!" he stood aside with both men walking inside. "Hazel, Jim's here!" He called to the kitchen. Just as James knew would happen, right when he put his bag down his father pulled him into a tight hug. Greg only smiled and watched the homecoming of a loved son before attention was turned to him. "Who's your friend?" It was then Hazel made her way from the kitchen.

"Oh, this is my roommate."

"I'm Greg House." He introduced himself as he took Jack's hand in a firm handshake.

Hazel smiled. "So, you're Greg? James has told me quite a bit about you." Greg's attention quickly turned to her. It was obvious now that James took more after his father than her or most of it anyway. Since she and Jack both had that chestnut brown hair one really couldn't tell who he had gotten it from but those dark blue eyes definitely meant he didn't get his eye color from her. He did, however, inherit her unique ears, which were visible being her long hair was tied up to keep it out of the way of her cooking.

She was definitely an aging beauty. Her long wavy brown hair, beautiful dark blue eyes and high cheekbone said as much but it looked as if her height was another thing that James didn't inherit from her. Where as her husband stood at an impressive 6'1" she could easily fit in his shadow at a mere 5'3" but in no way did that prevent her loving son from making his way to her and giving her a tight affectionate hug.

It wasn't long into the greeting that in all the commotion Michael made his way down the stairs and spotted his brother. "Jimmy!!" in a quick whirlwind Michael had grabbed hold of his brother and started to give him an affectionate nuggie. James' cries of laughter and surprise filled the room as he tried to escape his younger brother's death grip but to no avail.

Seemed everyone loved Jimmy.

Though Michael himself was tall he didn't quite meet eye to eye with his older brother but by the fact that he still had his tall and older brother in a head lock meant that didn't hinder him one bit. When James had finally cried uncle he reluctantly let him go and laughed along with everyone else as James tried to get his mussed hair back as it was before his brother's onslaught of rough affection.

After the room calmed down a bit, James picked up his bag and told Greg they could put their things in his old room. Following in suit, Greg kept close as James led the way up stairs as Hazel call that the inflatable mattress was in the upstairs closet if they wanted it.

James had a cozy room with light blue walls, a dresser, tv, twin size bed, two windows; a generally nice place to be. Various academic and arts trophies and ribbons littered some shelves near what Greg suspected was a closet door and he was about the crack a joke to James about him being a nerd but when he turned around found no one else in the room.

"Jimmy, I didn't know you were such a nerd!" He called knowing he wouldn't be too far. "Next thing I know you'll be wearing a pocket protector!"

"I already wear a pocket protector." Not hearing him re-enter he room Greg jumped at the sound of his voice. "And besides," he continued. "Some of those are for recitals, too."

"What's that?" He asked pointing at the box James held in his hand.

"It's the inflatable mattress."

Greg let out a mock gasp, "But, Jimmy! I wanna sleep with you!"

"Not so loud!" he hissed before he dropped the box on the ground. "I'm sorry but-"

"I know, I know! Can't! Fine!" he quickly hushed James as his eyes traveled about the room. It was then he spotted something that got his attention. "Oh, your violin." Greg said as he walked to the desk and opened the old beat up case revealing a beautiful rosewood violin with an equally gorgeous dark finish. Looking at the case one wouldn't suspect such a beautiful treasure hiding inside. Greg carefully took it out the case. "You said you play, right?"

"I'm okay." He replied as he unrolled the deflated mattress.

Greg eyed the instrument as he tried to take in every detail and just out of curiosity he took the bow and placed the instrument under his chin like he had seen other violinists do. He carefully put the bow to the strings and tried to see what he could make happen. James flinched visibly when he heard the violin sing a note or two but quickly went back to his task at hand without a word. Sure, Greg was no violin master but he didn't sound like someone who had just picked up their violin for the first time. He coaxed some more notes that didn't sound like a cat screaming or someone scratching a chalk board but it was no song.

Now knowing he wasn't a complete failure with the violin, Greg put the bow down. "You should play it for me later." He offered as he delicately set the violin back in its case.

But he didn't miss the uneasiness in his friend's voice as he replied, "Yeah, maybe."

Greg sat down on the twin bed as he watched James work on setting up the bed that he was supposedly going to be sleeping in and noted, "This place is certainly an _I love Jimmy_ festival."

"They're my family; they're supposed to love me." He chuckled.

Greg gave a small nod at the comment, "Yeah, I guess." he answered halfheartedly.

--

After the bed was inflated and set up, James was recruited by his mother to help out with the cooking for tomorrow and with him being more than happy to help out, he simply left Greg to his own devices. For a short while he sat and watched in the kitchen as the pair cooked but the extremely enticing smells from the food he wasn't allowed to touch until tomorrow was too much to bare. He'd have to find entertainment elsewhere.

And lucky for him, entertainment came in the form of Jack Wilson and alcohol.

The two chatted about anything that came to mind, themselves, James, patients, school and food. "So, Greg, how'd you meet Jim?" he asked as he stood up and walked over to the bar. The more they talked the more this started to remind Greg of one of those interviews a father would give his daughter's dates. He watched as Jack pull out a wine glass and poured himself a glass of red wine from a crystal carafe. "You want a drink?"

"Sure, what are you offering?"

Jack turned around to see what he had available for his guest. "Let's see here.. for red wine we have merlot, cabernet, and zinfandel. For white we have chardonnay. There's champagne, but that's for tomorrow night." Then Jack knelt down and opened the cabinet. "And if you want something a little harder we have scotch, brandy, bourbon, whiskey, vodka.."

"Bourbon?" it was like the magic word. Bourbon was Greg's drink of choice. "What brand is it?"

"Uhh, _Woodford Reserve_." Jack answered when he found the bottle.

"I've actually not had that brand."

"Really?" Jack barked almost disbelievingly. "It's a good brand."

"Well, in that case, pour me a glass, kind Sir!" Greg cheered with Jake doing so with a laugh.

When finished, Jack handed Greg his bourbon as he settle back in his chair. "Oh, did you want ice with that?" he asked concerned.

Greg smiled. "No, this is great." Jack was definitely where James had gotten some, if not most of his kindness, caring for others, and wanting to make sure their every need and want was met. He took a ginger sip. "Oh, this is nice." He agreed before he took a more generous sip. "What were we talking about?" He asked as placed his glass on the coffee table. "Oh, Jimmy, right. Well, he had been making a name for himself on campus for a while at that point and one of my professors introduced us. Some lecture of some kind." He shrugged. But thinking back on the occasion, he remembered James in that suit, all dressed up and serious, "You definitely have an all work no play kinda son, there."

Jack nodded with a smile. "I sure do. He's always been a serious kid, but he's had his share of rough times."

This got Greg's attention quick. "Rough? Like what?" Just as Jack about to explain, the kitchen door opened with a tired James appearing. "Hey, Jimmy, why are you out of the kitchen?" he asked jokingly but it was evident that all the work was wearing him out.

"Taking a break." He said as he rubbed his eyes.

But when he took a few more steps toward the couch to take a seat Greg swiftly reached out and grabbed hold of him and practically threw him onto the couch. "Sit down, have a seat, take a load off!" Greg chirped and tossed an arm around his tired friend's shoulder and grabbed his glass of bourbon and nearly shoved it in James' face. "Relax and have a drink!"

James was immediately nervous at the amount of affection that was displayed in front of his father but he really had no reason to worry. Jack saw it all as boisterous play and friendship and not as_ this is my son's boyfriend loving on my son._

"I don't think-"

"Oh, come on," Greg cut him off. "What is one drink going to do? Loosen up! Have some fun!" Greg would have been lying to himself and anyone who asked if he said he didn't have a more sinister plan than just getting James to loosen up a little. A plan was brewing in that brain of his and he knew he'd definitely be playing with fire. But sometimes you just had to take risks he told himself.

_Whatever helps you sleep at night, Greg._

After a few drinks from all parties, Greg had coaxed James into extending his break until tomorrow and when Hazel had appeared to see what happened to her co-chief, she was gracious enough to let him off the hook until he sobered up. She knew it was best not to let a drunken chief into the kitchen if you could help it.

"Gregory." James said simply breaking that silence with Greg raising a brow and glancing over at him. James never called him by his full name. "Grregooorrry." He drew out in a slur.

"What? You just gonna say my name a hundred times or are you trying to tell me something?" Jack gave a small laugh and a shake of his head as he watched his drunken son and friend.

James smiled. "Your name sounds like a country."

"What?"

"Your name sounds like a country." He repeated. "Where are you from? Oh, I'm from Gregory! What are you? Oh, I'm a Gregorian!"

Greg shook his head. "Jimmy, you're drunk."

"No, really! Doesn't it?" he turned to his father for support but was only greeted with an apologetic smile and raised hands.

"Don't look at me, I think you're drunk." He answered in return.

"Kah! I'm not drunk! So, I have a little to drink, big deal! That doesn't make me drunk." He sulked.

"No, but comparing my name to a country does." Greg noted with a stern look.

"He really is a light weight when it comes to alcohol," Jack broke in. "Let him drink a few one right after another and he'll fall quick."

James stared in disbelief. How dare his father sell him out like that!

"Really? Well, looks like winning drinking contests will be no problem. I just have to think of fun things to bet him."

"Hey! I _am_ in the same room here!"

"We know, Jimmy, but this is a no drunks allowed conversation.." Greg could see by the way James was glaring and narrowing his eyes he was ready to just tear into him quick, but before he could get a word out Greg quickly added. "I was just kidding! Don't get your panties in a wad."

"You were always a serious kid. You need to loosen up every once and a while, Jim."

"Agreed."Greg chimed.

"I'm just going to put that as _your_ drunkenness talking." He growled as he folded his arms.

"Fine, do me a favor and go to the bar over there a fetch me the bottle of vodka and a shot glass." Greg asked, or rather ordered. Wanting to prove himself as not drunk with the task, he slowly rose to his feet and made his way over to the bar but Greg noticed something right away. He stared at the sway in James' hips and wondered if anyone else noticed it as easily and quickly as he had but before he even thought about asking anyone else he dropped it. He probably was the only one who noticed because he was the only one transfixed on his friend's every movement.

James was able to follow the task given to him easy enough… but he was still drunk.

When he returned to the table with the items asked of him, Greg opened the fresh bottle of Absolute Vodka and poured a shot into the small shot glass. "So, you claim you're not drunk." He said picking up the shot. "Well, take this and relax. You need to get drunk for a change."

With only an unsure expression James took the glass offered to him before he knocked the shot back with it burning all the way down his throat and as a reward, Greg clapped a hand on his back. As the clock rolled on and the night became later Jack knew when it was time for him to give it up. Though he didn't have as much to drink as his son and roommate, he had enough to know that what he needed most was a good night's sleep. With his goodnights being said all around he retired to he and his wife's bedroom on the same floor.

Now that they were alone Greg knew he could get his more sinister plan rolling. To his surprise it only took one stolen kiss from those soft lips to get the ball rolling with the two of them were making their way upstairs to James' room.

Greg learned that what James was drunk, just like most everyone else, he was a certain kind of drunk. Sure you had your angry drunks, dumb drunks, crazy drunks, funny drunks, and like James you had your emotional drunks. James' emotional level normally ran at about at a happy medium or sometimes even around a medium-high, but when he was drunk it would run up to a high-medium. And if he was drinking while already on an emotional high his level could easily be a high-high and tonight was no exception.

Anything and everything Greg was throwing at him he was responding completely… well, almost completely.

In all the hushed commotion on the twin bed, Greg had managed to lose his shirt where as James had been stripped of everything save for his boxer briefs and was now pinned on the bed under his friend's weight.

"Gawd, Jamie! You're fucking gorgeous!" Greg groaned as he held a hand over his face and stared between his loosely parted fingers. James gave a small and modest smile as he moved his hips and tried to get more comfortable from Greg's jeans biting trough the thin fabric of his boxer briefs. He leaned forward and placed his warm hands on James' exposed chest.

After realizing what he had just been called; James wrinkled his nose at his newly acquired pet name. "Jamie?"

Greg smile back in return. "Well, it's that or Dandelion. Are you a dandelion, Jimmy?" he whispered. James shook his head. "Good, then Jamie it is." Slowly, roaming hands slid off of his smooth chest and onto the bed with Greg lowering himself down onto his pinned down friend.

But just as Greg started to work slow kisses down James' neck a soft quiet voice got his attention. "I gotta tell you a secret."

"Oh?" he purred as he resorted to nuzzling the soft skin of James' neck before he made his way back up and ghosted his lips over James' and whispered, "What's your secret, Jamie?"

The apologetic smile was a little off putting but Greg tried to elicit a different reaction by softly blowing air against those moist pink lips. "When I drink, well.. when I get drunk.. umm, really drunk…" he stumbled over his words.

"Yeah?" Greg whispered hotly against parted lips.

"Somethings don't work right."

"What doesn't work right?" he propped his chin up on his hand and kept his face close as blue eyes watched brown.

He gave that apologetic smile again. "I, uh… It won't, I mean, normally all of this, everything would turn me on quick… but the thing in, well-"

"Well?" Greg was starting to become _very_ curious by this point.

"Well, when I get drunk, _really_ drunk-"

"You're babbling, Jamie." He pointed out.

James let out a nervous chuckle. "Sorry.."

"It's fine, just spit it out. When you're really drunk you can't…?"

"It doesn't turn on." He spat out rushed.

But it didn't make sense. "erm?"

"I, uhh… can't get it up?" Now this was interesting or at least to Greg it was.

It was always the weird little quirks that got his attention. "You can't get an erection?" James nodded shyly. "Seriously?" Greg's voice was filled with a surprised amusement with a smile lighting up his features. James nodded again. Now, Greg wasn't trying to be rude in any way, he was genuinely curious about this and when Greg House was curious there was just about no way to stop him until he's settled his curiosity. This condition in particular wasn't something he ran into or even heard about on a daily basis. So, Greg sat up and repositioned himself on James' legs he could get a better look at what was going on. Now, he didn't have to look at himself to know that he was ready to go, but James?

Nothing.

Suddenly Greg realized that God must have been smoking crack when he thought up James Wilson but like they say, _the lord works in mysterious ways._ Maybe this was God's way of making sure his favorite Saint Jimmy wouldn't be taken advantage of while his judgment was impaired.

_Well, dammit to hell!_ Greg thought to himself. James was being protected against jackasses like him who would try to take advantage or poor drunk Jimmy. Oh, if he didn't feel like the biggest jackass of them all in that moment. Knowing he needed to do some right by this situation he found himself in, he looked around and found James' discarded t-shirt and handed it to him. "Okay, Jamie, how about we put this shirt back on."

But when James took the shirt this was when the more emotional side of Drunk Jimmy started to show itself. He gave Greg a hurt and apologetic look. "You're not mad, are you?"

The only person Greg was mad at was himself. He was sure after James knocked out for the night he'd have to make a trip to the bathroom to help himself out and to show James no hard feelings he gave a comforting smile. "I'm not mad." He chuckled. "How can I be mad at something that you can't help and that I started?"

But it seemed that his kindhearted words didn't help. It was almost as if James didn't listen to a single word he had said. "I'm so sorry, I really do want to… I just can't. I'm such a disgrace!" James promptly started beating himself up.

_No, not now!_

"Jamie, you're hardly a disgrace." He replied casually. Awkward sexual advances are supposed to be just as they are; awkward. They weren't supposed to have terrible, crazy, emotional breakdowns memories tied to them as well.

"I AM!" he cried, "I'm pitiful! I can't have sex with my boyfriend because I'm too afraid that someone will find out and that my body won't listen to me!" Greg knew nothing good should have come from that confession, but he couldn't help the feeling of pride welling in his chest to be referred to as his boyfriend. "I'm sorry about how I feel! I'm sorry that I love you-"

"Whoa! Did you just apologize for your liking me?" Greg furrowed his brows and shot a glare at the man lying on the bed. He nodded miserably. That was it, being brought up as a straight boy and being afraid of being anything different was one thing, but apologizing for who you are, who you like and how you feel was the last straw. Greg grabbed James' shoulders, "James." His voice was stern and demanding, but he didn't look up. "Look at me."

His voice was even more demanding and harsh. Slowly James picked his head up. Sad and confused brown eyes looked into dark piercing blue ones.

"I don't ever, and I mean _ever_ want hear you apologize to me or anyone about being who you are again. You shouldn't have to apologize for something you can't help and no one has the right to make you or even ask you to. You got me?" James sniffed and gave a small nod. "So you like me, that shouldn't matter to anyone but you and me. There's nothing to be sorry for." he nodded again to show that he was listening. "And you know what else?"

Brown eyes stared.

"I like you, too." With a sigh he got off James and shoved him slightly to get him to move over as he laid down next to him. Seeking any bit of comfort he possibly could James curled up to him. Greg couldn't say he didn't feel like an ass now. Sure, it wasn't his fault that James felt this way and that things got a little haywire when he got drunk, but it was his fault that had gotten drunk in the first place. He let out another sigh as he fought himself on what to do when he felt James nudge his head under his chin. Knowing what he did next was important, he gave in and held James close. "We're going to make it, Jimmy.. Just you wait." He said softly and kept on with whatever came to mind as he felt himself slowly slipping into sleeps grip. "Twenty years from now, we're going to be in some house or whatever, together sitting on some couch and watching TV like always."

What Greg didn't know was in fact, twenty years to the day the both of them would be in that apartment stretched out on the couch watching TV and drinking beer.

He opened his eyes and gently stroked James' hair and tried to coax him to sleep when something else came to mind. "And another thing," he spoke softly, "I know you somehow got in the mindset that being with a guy means you're bad and terrible or whatever. But no matter what they say, you are _not_ disgusting or a bad person. Neither of us are. We're just trying to find love, too." Those were the last words James heard that night as he slowly drifted off to sleep.


	9. This Stressful Thanksgiving

_**CHAPTER EIGHT:**__ This Stressful Thanksgiving_

---

Oh, wonderful, lovely Thanksgiving. The day that you get to eat and eat and eat to your heart's content and love every minute of it. Though you may gain a pound or two it's something you try to push from your mind because you know if you were faced with the situation again you'd do exactly what you do every year.

You'd eat.

And don't forget family. It was a day where you get to laugh and talk with your loved ones and be thankful for all the good things in life. A day you can have fun and catch up on everything you missed.

James was thankful that he didn't get hangovers and when he did they weren't that bad. He was also thankful for his warm bed. What he didn't find any thankfulness for at that moment was the man who was curled up against his back, practically using him as a blanket.

He also wasn't thankful for the fact that he couldn't remember all of what happened last night. Really, he could remember bits and pieces, but something must have happened last night. Why else would he down to his underwear?

It looked like there was a mercy killing out in the forecast for that morning. Mostly because James was going to kill Greg and release him from further years of his severe assholism. It was the only way he could really think of dealing with this snake in the grass.

It never took muck to wake Greg. If James moved or even sometimes breathed a little too loud he could wake him up. Greg was a very light sleeper where as James was the exact opposite. You could shake James or yell his name and it would only be after a good few minutes of this before he would finally wake up. But being as miffed as he was that Greg would get him drunk to have sex with him, he took no sympathy on his sleeping friend. Being as careful as he could not to wake Greg, he pulled his arm forward and he swung it back hard with his elbow digging right into what felt like ribs.

"Aww, shit… Jimmy, what the fuck was that?" the voice behind him moaned sleepily and painfully.

"That was me debating on whether to kill you or not." He growled as pulled out of Greg's grasp and sat up. "What happened last night?" he snared angrily, his brown eyes glaring.

"You… you don't remember?" he groaned still nursing the obvious potential bruise.

"I remember bits here and there. Did we.. have sex?"

"You really don't remember?" Greg asked as he sat up slowly as he started to become curious.

James turned to shot him another glared. "No, I don't. That's why I'm asking you."

He wasn't sure whether that smile growing on his friend's face was a good or bad sign at first. "No need to worry. If we had sex, believe me, you'd remember." He informed him as he looked down and rubbed his side and checked out his injury. "Jimmy, you hurt me." He whined and tried to pull a mock hurt expression as he looked sadly at his nearly naked bedmate.

"You're lucky that's all I did." He grumbled. Quickly, in the second's time he put his guard down Greg managed to somehow pounce on James and got him back on his back; pinning him to the bed.

"Come on, Jimmy, I'm sure we can get something going in no time. I bet I could get you purring pretty quickly." He said huskily as he rested his forehead against his annoyed friend's.

But James wasn't feeling any of it. The thought of a quickie before breakfast didn't appeal to his hopeless romantic mentality. "Are you kidding? Someone going to be knocking on that door any second now!" he yelped.

Greg scoffed and placed a kiss between those brown eyes. "You don't know-"

Suddenly a knock at the door cut both of them off. "James, Greg, breakfast it ready! Time to get up!"

"...that. Hm, point made."

Greg sat up and gave a full body stretch. He looked down at the man who he was still sitting on. That annoyed expression currently was not saying _I love you_ in the least. "What happened to my beautiful sunrise?" He cried playfully looking down at that aggravated scowl.

James was still obviously sore. "Oh, it seems to be hidden behind angry thunder clouds." He folded his arms. "Now, can you _please _get off me so I can get dressed?" Seeing that James did ask nicely and also not wanting any more domestic abuse thrown his way, he got off his friend but didn't get up from the bed just yet.

James on the other hand got out the bed and grabbed the first shirt he found and slipped it on. But it was obvious by the _I know_ _I'm gorgeous; you don't have to stare._ scrawled across the front of the shirt that something was amiss. And right after he grabbed his pants and pulled them on, he made his way out the room.

"Jimmy, that's…" he trailed off before shaking his head with a smile. He casually made his way over to his bag and pulled out a fresh t-shirt and slipped it on. He also hoped for his friend's sake that no one would notice that James was wearing his shirt from yesterday.

Downstairs if anyone noticed James' strange dress attire, no one mentioned it. Everyone sat at the dining table and chatted while their breakfast was being cooked by Jack, who was taking orders on how people wanted their eggs and toast prepared as he also tossed sausage and bacon onto the plates of however asked for it.

Overall breakfast was nice, the food and company was tasty and cheerful as casual conversation made its way about the table. Most of the conversation was about the anticipated feast that was expected for later that day as the menu of what was to come was released. Everyone was excited. And maybe it was this excitement about thanksgiving dinner that allowed James to get away with wearing Greg's shirt at the breakfast table. But then again… maybe it didn't go completely unnoticed.

After breakfast was finished James announced that he was off to take a shower but when he made his way up to his room to get some clothes to wear, it turned out he wasn't alone. "Hey, Jimmy?"

"Ah!" he let out surprised and turned. "Oh, Michael, you scared me." He admitted with a smile and shared a quick laugh with his younger brother. "What's up?"

"Jimmy, I don't know if I like you with Greg. He's… so much older than you." Michael confessed sheepishly. James was shocked by the statement. He thought he and Greg were being discrete but it looked as if Michael had seen right past their ruse and at what was hiding just behind the mask.

James did his best to play off his fear of being found out."Michael, you make it sound like he's fifty years old or something. It's only ten years."

"Yeah well, I don't know." He was amazed at how well Michael was taking all this. He'd expect him to get hysterical or something of the sort. Come to think of it, Michael never had anything bad to say about Uncle Thomas and it was mostly only his father that objected to seeing Uncle Thomas. To Michael, he was still his uncle and he'd love him nonetheless.

"Look at Aunt Joana and Uncle Donald, they're eighteen years apart and they're just fine," James supplied trying to ease the thought of him with the older Greg, but right after the words left his mouth a look of realization slowly grew on Michael's face.

"Jimmy... he's." He paused trying to comprehend the words he was trying to get out. "Greg's your.. boyfriend?" James paled at the words. Seemed Michael didn't know and just like that he let the cat out of the bag. "Jimmy... you're gay?"

James wanted to curl up in a little ball and hide under anything he could. His brother was going to hate him! But.. he knew he couldn't leave it at that. "No!" He barked quickly but Michael held strong with his suspicious stare. He had been found out and all the denial in the world couldn't save him. "I'm.. bi." James let his shoulders fall. Sure, it felt somewhat good to get it out but he wished there wasn't going to be such big a price to pay for it.

"Jimmy, he's ten years older than you!" he yelped excitedly. Again, he waited for harsh words like he had when he confessed his secret to Greg at the roller rink but just like then, none came.

Could his brother be as understanding? Was he gay or bi, too? "You're not… disgusted with me?"

Michael looked at his brother like he had just told him that their parents were aliens and they were really adopted. "Jimmy, you…" he let out a laugh. "You're my brother and you'll always be my brother no matter what. You… liking guys won't make me hate you."

"But Dad now hates _his_ brother. He told Uncle Thomas that he never wanted to see him again!" He was at a loss. He was sure that his family would kick him out and never let him back in but to know that his brother at least was looking out for him was a nice feeling.

"Well, Dad's… stupid. He's an old fashioned guy born from another time," he shrugged. "He just… doesn't understand."

Michael's words were very comforting but James _had_ to know. "Michael, are you..?"

James couldn't find it in himself to even finish the question, but was only met with a skeptical look. "Do I look or act gay to you?" James shook his head. "I don't need to be gay to understand, Jimmy. It's just a different way of life. Just like Americans and Asians live differently, so do straights and gays. I'm not Asian, but I understand them and I don't hate them."

"God, I was so freaked out. I was worried that I'd be kicked out the family like Uncle Thomas." James spat out honestly.

"I don't know how Dad would take any of it, though.."

"Michael! You can't tell Dad! You can't tell anyone! Please!!" he pleaded with him, "I'll tell them! I don't know when or how… but I'll tell them!"

"Jimmy! Calm down! I'm not going to tell them anything. I already lost one brother; I'm not going to have a hand in losing another one." James knew in that moment that he truly loved his brother like never before. To know that not matter what, through thick and thin, that your brother will always love you was an amazing feeling. It was unconditional love at its best.

James gave his brother a tight hug. "Michael, you're the best!" he got out. "If ever you need anything-"

"I know." Michael answered softly as he returned the hug.

When they pulled apart, James was smiling softly before he gave a laugh. "I need to take a shower. I smell like sweat and alcohol."

This only brought up something else that was playing on Michael's mind. "So… that _is_ Greg's shirt." He said, his eyes darting back up from the shirt to his brother's face.

He didn't have to say a word for James to know what he was thinking. "We, we, we didn't do anything! I swear!" he yelped in his defense.

"Have you two had sex before?" he started hard at his brother. After knowing James his whole life he knew how to read his brother almost as if he were a book.

"What? No! Wait… why am I telling you this?" He said more to himself as he turned his gaze from Michael with a confused expression.

But none of that meant Michael was done with their conversation. "I saw him last night, Jimmy! He was deliberately trying to get you drunk!"

"Hey! Don't you start that! I already took care of it! I got onto his case this morning and I'm not finished with him about it either!" he informed him with a finger pointed at him.

He didn't think James was looking at this the right way. "But, Jimmy-!"

"No, Michael, this is between me and him. I can take care of it! So, don't go yelling at him about things you don't understand." He warned his brother with a stern hard look.

"I understand what getting someone drunk to have sex with them is!" he spat back aggravated. Really? Was Jimmy not listening to him?

"Shut up!!" he hissed. "You're being too loud! Mom and Dad might hear!"

"I don't care!" He spat louder.

"Well, I fucking do!!" He shot back, "This is _my_ fucking life we're talking about! Not yours! So, let me deal with it on my own!" He quickly turned from Michael and started to dig in his bag for a new change of clothes. "Do we have any clean towels?!"

"Yeah, they're in the hall closet." He answered reluctantly with his arms folder as he kept his gaze from his brother.

"I'm going to take a shower." Michael didn't watch his brother leave the room.

--

"Greg!" An annoyed voice snapped quickly jarring the said man from his sleep on the couch.

"Em? Jimmy?" he murmured before blue eyes opened.

"No."

Greg slowly sat up and rubbed his eyes to get a look his caller. Oh, it was Michael… a not so happy looking one either. No wonder he thought it was James. "I need to talk to you about something."

He stretched and pulled his legs off the couch to give his boyfriend's little brother a seat. "Sure, what about?"

Michael didn't take the invitation to sit down. "No one else needs to hear what I have to say to you." He said harshly.

Oh, something wasn't right. Not a stranger to such harshness, Greg was more than happy to oblige. "Outside, then?"

"Sounds good."

It didn't take long for the two to make their way out to the backyard without grabbing Hazel's attention, who was still working on the big thanksgiving feast, or Jack, who actually wasn't home being that he went to the store on Hazel's orders to fetch some forgotten ingredients.

Knowing there was a real reason they were practically hiding behind the work shed, Greg tried to get right down to business. "So, what terrible things do you need to say to me?"

"What are you doing with Jimmy?" he growled.

"Excuse me?" He gave Michael a doubtful look, "I don't think that's any of your business."

"Drop the act! I know you're his boyfriend and I know you got him drunk last night to have sex with him!"

"What?! He told you that?" he chocked exasperated. What the hell? Jimmy was sharing the skeletons in the closet with his brother?

"No! I figured it out on my own! And I don't think you treat him right!" Michael at this point was shooting Greg daggers, but that didn't faze him in the least. Greg's had much worse thrown his way.

"Hey! Compared to everyone else I'm near I treat your brother like a king!" Greg couldn't believe this guy, where does he get off obviously interfering where he had no business sticking his nose?

"Just because you treat him better than you treat everyone else doesn't mean you treat him as good as you should!" he agued.

But Greg wasn't going to let him get away with that. Michael's never seen them together. "What? You're not there! You don't see how we are behind closed doors! You have no right to say I treat your brother badly when you've never seen us together!" He defended.

"I know what you were trying to do last night!" He yelled. "I saw you forcing those drinks on Jimmy!"

"Oh, do you, now? Well, then, young Michael, please enlighten me on what my real motive was." He said darkly.

"You got him drunk to have sex!!"

Greg rolled his eyes. "I got him drunk to loosen him up! Sex was just an added bonus!" So maybe those weren't the best choice words he could have used on James' concerned brother.

"HE WAS DRUNK!!" He roared, pissed off. In his mind Greg was that last thing James needed in his life. How could he possibly be attracted to a guy who would try and get him drunk to take advantage of him?

"HEY!!" he shouted back "When I saw he couldn't do anything I stopped! I didn't take advantage of him like so many other people today would!" Greg wasn't even sure why he was even trying to explain himself to this pipsqueak.

"Because you realize that it was wrong suddenly makes it alright?!"

"I didn't rape him!!" He got out realizing where Michael was trying to take this conversation.

But he only played denial. "I never said you raped him!!"

"Well, that what you're implying I did!" Brother or no brother, Greg was ready to punch Michael in the face. He knew it would only get him further in the doghouse with James, but if he didn't cool it soon that's what it was going to come down to. How dare he even imply that he'd hurt James like that.

"I'm just trying to look out for what best for Jimmy!" he defended his case angrily. It was obvious that Michael was holding himself back from resorting to physical blows as well.

But it was all too obvious to Greg that Michael really didn't know what he was getting himself into. He had no idea what Greg was trying to do for James. "WELL, THAT'S ME!! I'M WHAT'S BEST FOR HIM RIGHT NOW!!" He yelled not caring who heard at that moment but quickly calmed himself by taking a deep breath. He was _not_ allowed to hit Michael.

He kept telling himself that.

"I'm trying to get him to understand that he doesn't have to hide who he is!" he sneered and continued even further, "Once he understands that he doesn't have to give a damn about what everyone one else thinks about him he'll be so much happier! Because right now he's so fucking miserable with himself because he's so damn afraid of being who he is and someone else finding out! And what's scaring him the most is his family finding out about him!" Greg tried to shed some light on the demons Michael's older brother was harboring, but it almost looked like it had gone unnoticed.

"I accept him! I have nothing against Jimmy!"

_When will he understand that this doesn't involve him?_

"But that's just you! What about your parents? Huh?! You so sure that Mommy and Daddy will look upon him as kindly as you do?"

"What about your parents?" Michael tried to suddenly turn the tables, but Greg wasn't falling for that in the slightest.

"Oh, but this isn't about _my_ parents! I don't give a damn about what they think about me! But Jimmy does!" Greg knew he had to end this, his first was already clenched and his knuckles were turning white. If he didn't do something about this soon he was going to maul his attacker. That was the last thing he needed to do while staying at the Wilson household.

Just as it looked like Michael was about to say something else Greg quickly jumped back in trying to bring this whole thing to a close.

"You don't know a thing about what you brother's going though right now! So, don't you dare come up to me and try to start a fight with me about how I'm not good enough for your brother when you don't even know a damn about what's going on!" And with that, Greg stormed off, leaving Michael standing alone and seething.

--

Finished his shower, James made his way to his bedroom to drop off his dirty clothes but instead found Greg stretched out on the bed with an annoyed scowl on his face. Well, something obviously happened in the short time he was in the shower. "Hey." He offered kindly as he dropped the clothes he held in the dirty hamper.

"Hey." Greg answered but with a much more forced edge to it.

James knew the sooner he found out what had Greg mad; the sooner he could get it resolved. "So, what's got you all pissed off?"

"Your guard dog bit me." He answered simply.

But that wasn't right. "What? I don't have a dog."

James sat down on a small patch of the bed that Greg managed not to take up. "Michael, he jumped my case earlier about not treating you right. You'll be happy to know that I didn't punch him in the face like I wanted to. I held back so I wouldn't upset you." He said trying to play some guilt on the situation. Greg knew he wasn't perfect; he tried to ignore his own tiny guilt tricks.

"Dammit." James cursed under his breath, "I told him to stay out of this."

"Apparently, he didn't listen." He stated obviously before turning his head and looking over at his friend. "So, he knows about us."

"Yeah." he answered quietly, almost as if he were ashamed.

Greg rolled his eyes. "How'd that happen?"

He shifted over as far as he could on the bed before falling off to give James some room to lay down, which he did. Feeling the need to enforce that he _did_ treat James right, scooted as close to him as he could and wrapped an arm around him. "I slipped." He sighed. "He was concerned that I was living with someone that was ten years older than me. He made it sound like that he knew about us and I let it slip. Apparently, he really didn't know and I told him."

Greg placed a gentle kiss on that damp brown hair before he tried to put James at ease. "Don't worry about him. I think I set him straight for a while."

"What you tell him?" he asked curiously.

Greg tried to put an end to the conversation. "It's water under the bridge now, don't worry about it." He nuzzled that clean damp hair as the room fell quiet. Both of them laid there a while relishing the nice peace and quite as well as each other's company.

"You need a shower." James said suddenly.

Greg laughed. "Way to kill the moment there, Jimmy."

He shrugged with a smile. "Whatever."

--

After gathering a towel for himself Greg went off to take his shower but lucky for James he wasn't confronted on any matters about this, that, or something else. He was let loose to wander about and find something to keep himself occupied. And strangely enough, it seemed Ice cream and TV was going to do it.

While flipping through the channels a familiar face caught his attention, but while watching TV his sweet tooth suddenly got worked up with him craving something sweet. Heading down stairs into the kitchen, he started to rummage around as his mother took a break sitting at the table. After rummaging for a small time he ran into vanilla ice cream in the freezer. Quickly he looked about in the cabinets and found some ice cream cones as well. "James, Honey, please don't eat too much, you'll ruin your appetite before dinner."

He only laughed while he dug in a nearby drawer and pulled out the ice cream scoop. "Oh, don't worry about that. Nothing can ruin my appetite for thanksgiving dinner." he offered to fix her some but she declined while she waited for the turkey to cook in the oven.

Once done with the ice cream he cleaned his mess, not wanting to leave yet another thing for his mother to deal with and made his way back up to his room to get back to the TV. It wasn't long before Greg appeared after his shower.

But James licking on a mound of ice cream precariously stacked on a cone didn't go unnoticed by him in the slightest. Sure, there was the sexual aspect of it, but it was purely the ice cream that had his attention. He quickly made his way and joined his friend on the bed. "Hey, what'cha eatin'?"

James didn't look up but kept his attention on the TV. "Ice cream. What some?" he held the ice cream cone out for Greg.

"Yes, I would." And without even taking the cone he leaned over and bit off a huge mouthful of ice cream and moved it around in his mouth as he tried to let it melt on it's own to avoid the dreaded brain freeze. When James went back to eating the sweet ice cream he notice there was much more missing than he anticipated. With an indifferent side glance, brown eyes looked over to Greg.

He shrugged and smiled. "I like ice cream… Well, _love_ ice cream." He corrected. But it looked almost as James wasn't convinced. "Oh, I haven't told you yet, huh?" James' sudden confused look told him he did not. "Well, I steal ice cream." He said in a drawn out nervous kind of way with a nervous smile to go with it. "Give me the chance and I'll eat that whole thing while your head's turned."

"You're kidding."

"No, I'm serious!" he laughed. "I'll eat all your precious ice cream if I'm given the chance!"

"You're crazy." James laughed as well before pointing to the TV. "Look who I found." Greg followed James' finger with his eyes coming to land on the familiar Mr. Gene Kelly as he stood under a tree and stared in amazement as the town of Brigadoon slowly started to appear from the mist. "It's the very, very end of the movie." He supplied. "But hey, I couldn't pass it up."

Greg closed his eyes as he laughed to himself. The way James was smiling at the TV, he could almost imagine if his friend had a tail, it would be wagging at a million miles an hour watching his favorite, 1940's actor. As much as he had teased James in the past, he really wondered if while watching these films with Mr. Kelly, if he did image being the girl of all Mr. Kelly's attention and affections. "What would you do if Mr. Kelly, the 1940's Mr. Kelly, showed up one day and wanted to get with you?"

James worked on his ice cream more as the credits started to roll. "What?" he laughed.

"No, really!" Greg pestered. "If you found yourself being pursued by the handsome Mr. Kelly, what would you do?"

"Well, I guess after the initial shock of realizing I _wasn't_ dreaming, I'd say I'd go for it. Gene Kelly would be mine." the possessive way he said those last few words were priceless. Greg just outright started laughing and made no attempt to stop himself.

But once he quelled his laughter enough he asked another question. "What would you do if while the relationship between you and Mr. Kelly was heaven, Betsy What's-her-face started wandering about catching your pretty beau's attention?"

"Betsy Blair? His wife at the time?"

"She wouldn't be his wife then, he'd have you… but if she kept on she'd be his wife." James could see, Greg staring at the ice cream cone. So, with a soft chuckle and already half of it gone, he held out the sweet treat out for Greg to have some more.

James thought about what's he'd do about the nuisance Betsy Blair before he reluctantly answered, "Well… I'd probably have to kill her." He thought a little more before nodding. "Yep, I'd have to kill her." Greg started laughing again with him trying desperately not to have cold sugary ice cream come out his nose.

"Damn, Jimmy, no one can steal your guys or gals! You'll kill them! Would you kill someone if they were trying to steal me away?"

"You'd better believe it. But you also best believe that you'd have hell to pay, too, for even being tempted.. Hey! What? Did you eat all the ice cream?" He asked as he showed Greg the empty half-eaten ice cream cone with no ice cream in it. He only gave James an apologetic smile. "How did you even get it out without eating the cone?" he asked baffled.

"I, uhh.. _really _know how to work my tongue?" he still kept that apologetic smile. James only rolled his eyes and handed him the empty ice cream cone to finish off, which he did happily. "You know, he's way shorter than you." He supplied suddenly as he worked on finishing the cone. "He's like, 5'7", so it would most probably have to be you doing the actual sweeping off ones feet." He laughed at the thought. "It's actually kinda cute when you think about it. The top his head would come up to your nose." Greg snickered more at the image in his mind, where as James smiled and shook his head.

--

When the dinner bell was finally rung celebration went all around. Everyone gathered at the table that now had its two extenders added to it so it could hold all the food that was up for offer. A small prayer was said as well as a round of what everyone was thankful for that year. Jack went first, saying that he was thankful for being able to provide for his family and spend this wonderful time with them. Hazel was thankful that she was able to make such a wonderful feast possible with the help from her men. Michael was thankful that everyone was safe and well (save for one missing Wilson brother that everyone seem to push from their minds), James was thankful to have such a wonderful time being with his family, and Greg, he smiled.

"I guess I'm thankful for being able to meet Jimmy Boy so I could have such a fine meal in the company of such caring family."

After all the thanks were said and done, it was then Jack pulled out that promised bottle of champagne. Greg had never been in person where the celebrations were started with the champagne bottle being shaken up with the cork rocketing across the room until now. Jack started off the festivities by working off the cork with it shooting off and hitting the ceiling before bouncing off to be momentarily forgotten in a corner while the champagne was poured and passed around with everyone getting a glass, even Michael.

"Everyone, if you'd please raise your glasses for a toast." Jack said by raising his glass in example with everyone following suit. "Normally at this time you'd expect to hear a toast about family, love, and most definitely the food… but this year I have a different kind of toast. I say we do this years toast to Jim, who with his hard work, luck, and help from friends and family, was able to beat the odds and get into med school without letting anything get in his way. So here's to you, James, for being a wonderful son."

Everyone knocked their glasses with their neighbor and anyone else they could reach. And now with the toast done it was time to eat. The traditional foods of thanksgiving littered the table. There were the traditional dishes, like the green bean casserole, pumpkin pie, candied yams, cornbread, cranberry sauce, macaroni and cheese as well some not so traditional dishes like seafood chowder, eggplant parmesan with shrimp, and unlike the normal roasted turkey there was a smoked turkey that Michael could almost swear tasted like ham.

And there were desserts. There was the pumpkin pie as well as a chocolate cake and a delicious, mouth watering trifle with cake, pudding, and cherries (that was the one that Greg was threatening to take hostage and eat the whole thing during the night).

After everyone was done eating the food wasn't picked up right away and since the food was so good everyone could be found grabbing a few more bites periodically until it got too late to stay awake. Greg had been fighting with the tryptophan from the turkey since he had finished his first round of thanksgiving dinner. Now, all he wanted to do was curl up with his pretty Jimmy Wilson in that nice warm but small twin bed but to his dismay, didn't look like that was going to happen. You can't snuggle up in bed when you're not even allowed in it. "No! You lost your bed privileges when you got me drunk and tried to get me to have sex!"

"Come on… you know you want me in that bed with you! You love sleeping with me!" He tried to convince him but when Greg made one move like he was going to get into bed, James quickly stood his ground.

"I don't care if I have to kill you; you are _not_ getting in this bed. You have to learn your lesson." James snapped as he laid down and pulled the covers up.

This seemed almost unfair to Greg. "I learned my lesson when I didn't get any!" he yelped lightheartedly but James sighed and shook his head. "But, Jimmy, it's thanksgiving! Aren't you thankful for me?" he asked with big, sad, innocent, blue eyes.

"No."

He held his hand up with his thumb and index finger so close they almost looked to be touching. "Not even a little?"

"Not even close." He wasn't going to budge, no matter how much Greg pleaded.

"Oh, Jimmy, you're so cruel!" he cried out jokingly as he went to his bed, an inflated air mattress that was set up on the side of the bed. With a yawn, Greg finally allowed himself to try and get some sleep, even if it was on a pitiful makeshift bed of air.

Greg didn't like this lesson one bit.


	10. Third Time's Not Always The Charm

_**CHAPTER NINE: **__Third Time's Not Always The Charm_

---

Greg was the first to wake up the next morning. The inflatable mattress was comfortable enough that he slept the whole night through without interruption, but again, it didn't compare to the bed his lovely Jimmy boy was sleeping in. He stared at nothing in particular as he wondered to himself if his lesson was for just that night or if it was until James deemed necessary. Knowing there was no hope of going back to sleep, Greg rolled onto his back and started at the patterns the sunlight peeking through the curtains made on various objects around the room.

To get a better look he opted to sit up but after a few minutes he started to get the feeling like he was being watched. And out of reflex, he automatically turned to the source. There, still in the position he woken up in, brown eyes sleepily watched him. Knowing he had been found out, a smile grew on James' face before he gave a full stretch in his lying position.

"Mornin'." Greg greeted, but James shyly hid his face behind his folded arms. Already in a playful mood, Greg was quick to do something about that. Dismissing the death threat he was given the night before about getting in the bed, he pulled himself up onto the restricted area. "Shy! Being shy! You're not supposed to be shy!" he grabbed hold of James' wrists and tried to pull his arms from covering his face while laughing.

He could hear James laughing sleepily as well as he tried to burrow himself under the sheets and out of those strong hands' hold but all his halfhearted fight was for naught and before he knew it he was pinned to the bed with his arms held to the bed by his sides.

"Hmmm, what should I do with my catch?" he asked out loud.

James let out a long big yawn. Not being able to help it, Greg mirrored the yawn. "Lemme go." His quarry whined and tried to pull away.

"I don't feel like it." Was his reply.

"please?"

"No."

It was then an idea came to mind. Giving his sweetest smile, James tried to coax a kiss from his captor. And just like he knew he would, Greg gave in immediately with him falling right into James' trap. And to help add to the false sense of security he lull his captor into, with a delicate brush of a tongue against lips, he deepened the kiss. He wouldn't admit if asked, but he almost forgot about his plan as the slow but heated kiss started to wind down.

Trying hard to remind himself that this was part of some elaborate plan to get free, James quickly worked his plan by getting a hold of Greg's bottom lip between his teeth. Greg only realized something was a little muddled when James didn't let go when he tried to sit back up. Normally he'd see this as a hint to keep on kissing, but it was that cocky look of _I've got you now, Bitch_ in those brown eyes that told him this wasn't what was going on.

"Funny," Greg said with a lisp without the full use of his bottom lip, which James had a good hold on. "I would have thought that this was the time you would normally let go."

"I'll let _you_ go, when you let _me_ go." He said stating his deal. Greg should have known James was up to something. He needed to remember to let his head do the thinking in these situations.

"Jimmy, why are you always playing so hard to get?" he asked against soft pink lips before he tried to pull from James' hold but stopped when he could feel teeth only holding tighter.

"Because I have to piss." He got out.

But Greg wasn't sure if he was believing that just yet. "Prove it."

"Prove it? The only way I could prove it is if I pissed!" he growled and bit a little harder to show the urgency of the situation.

"Ow, ah! Okay, okay!! Here, you're free! You're free!" he yelped and let go of James' arms. Seeing that the terms of his deal had been met, he fulfilled his end of the bargain and released his grip on Greg's lip. After he had sat up James quickly wriggled his way out from under his friend and made his way out the room and too the bathroom, leaving Greg sitting on the bed with a hand rubbing his sore lip.

--

James trip to the bathroom didn't take long, but sure enough in just that little time Greg had managed to get into something, because right when James opened the bedroom door something round and white came flying at him. Quickly, he used the door as a shield and pushed the door open again after he heard the thump of it hitting. "What the hell was that?!" he cautiously walked in and looked behind the door but only found small remnants of whatever it was on the floor.

"Snow."

It was only then James noticed the open window and the cold air rushing into the warm room. "What do you mean _snow_?"

"I mean snow." Greg nodded his head toward the window for James to take a look. Sure enough, the faded green grass of the day before was now covered by a blanket of cold white snow. James could also see Greg's breath.

"It's getting cold in here. Close the window. You can go out and play in the snow _after_ you get dressed for it." James instructed.

Greg shot him a look. "Thanks, _Mom_." But closed the window anyway.

The day after thanksgiving was a much calmer one, that is, if you're not gearing up with your elbow and knee pads at the crack of dawn to bare the insanity that was the day after thanksgiving sales. If you were one of the sane that stayed home, there seemed to be an endless supply of leftovers that could be thrown together in all different way and made into their own dishes and meals. This is what breakfast consisted of.

After breakfast James had suggested they could go outside in the snow for something to do, but Greg didn't really feel like wandering about in the cold. The snow the weather man had predicted in Baltimore earlier in the month did happen, but it really wasn't enough to do anything with and it was just a cold slush by the end of the day. But with this amount of snow, it was going to be around for a while; he had no need to worry about missing his chance at a good snowball fight. He just wanted to lay back and relax.

Not feeling quite as lazy as his friend, James opted to washing their dirty laundry. They were due to leave back for Baltimore in a few hours so it would be nice not to have to deal with dirty laundry when they got back from a tiring two hour drive. Once that was done, he was told by his mother to bring as much food as they wanted home. So, immediately we went to the task of preparing the food for transpiration. And before he knew it three o'clock had arrived and if they anted to avoid the traffic, this was the prime time to get on the road.

With goodbyes being passed around, the promise of returning on the Christmas holiday along with a surprise hug for Greg from Hazel, they were out on the road again. The two hour drive back home was relatively uneventful compared to the trip there with the cookies. Greg watched the scenery outside his window for a while, but it didn't take long before he was lulled to sleep. This time he slept until they made it back home.

And when they got home and unpacked it looked as if the evening was even more uneventful than the ride home as James pulled out some notes to studied and look over just in case that pop quiz talk was still on while Greg contemplated missing work the next day.

--

Being back home was a wonderful thing. Sure visiting family was good and nice, but being able to relax and not have your guard up twenty-four/seven was even better. Greg liked being able to sleep in the same bad as James and not have to worry about anyone walking in. He also liked being able to maul his boyfriend with love… aggressively and not have to worry about someone walking around the corner and finding them or having an over-protective brother to deal with.

Ah, yes. Being home was a great. Meant later he could try his hand a third time at trying to get James to give it up. Oh, he was so close. If only he hadn't have encourage James to drink his fill. There were so many weird things that he was steadily finding out about his friend.

And as much as Greg never wanted to admit it, James turned out to be one of the most fascinating people he had run into in a long time. One of the things that seemed to make him so fascinating was the fact that they had so much in common and the things that they didn't seemed to be completely opposite. And because of this strange quirk (and because of how smart and pretty he was) in the beginning, it was Greg who followed James around.

One of the things they dealt with differently was their schooling. Though they both had their classes, Greg often declined meetings or lectures that didn't concern what he was looking to major or specialize in where as James was more than happy to attend.

Greg jokingly thought James always accepted was so he could have the excuse to dress nice and make himself pretty. Also unlike Greg, James was nearly anal about his appearance. He would often joke and make fun of his friend's need to look nice, but he would be lying if he wasn't drooling each time he wore a particular suit. And lucky for Greg the next morning held pinstripes.

Morning looked like it was going to be a relatively calm one at first. Managing to slip out of his sleeping boyfriend's arms (the term _boyfriend_ still felt really weird to think about) without waking him up, James started to get ready for a lecture with an important guest speaker. Wanting to look at his best he grabbed his nicest suit: a three piece charcoal grey pinstripe suit.

It was that suit in particular that always seemed to get Greg drooling. It wasn't really him in the whole suit that got him going. It was when he took that jacket off and was down to the pants and vest. And when he rolled up the sleeves there was just something about it that really drove him crazy.

But what would drive him even crazier was when the days of him wearing that suit would coincide with a day he would happen to lose or misplace his contacts and was forced to wear his glasses.

James didn't really like wearing his glasses out on public. The thought they made him look mousy, meek and geeky. To him, he truly believed they took away from his looks. Normally he'd only wear them in the apartment when he didn't feel like putting his contacts in. But the moment he was about to leave the apartment, be it for a quick errand or school, he'd always put his contacts in first.

It was like a woman and her makeup.

And that morning happened to be one of those days. While in the flurry of trying to get ready for some lecture he was invited in attend, James had managed to drop one of his contacts and for the life of him couldn't find it. Fearing that he'd be late, he quickly took out the contact he did manage to get in, put it back in its case and slipped on his glasses and made his way out the bathroom with special care and went straight to the bed and woke Greg.

Being that today he didn't have any classes to worry about, Greg called in to work and told them he was taking off. Lucky he had a very lenient boss. He was granted the day off and got to sleep in as late as he wanted. He didn't even mind being woken up from his day of leisure only because the sight of James dressed up pretty with his black framed glasses on made for a very lovely view he didn't mind waking for.

Blue eyes had barely opened before James was spitting out his plight and asked, almost begged Greg if he could search the bathroom for his missing contact being that he had no time and was afraid he was going to be late as it was.

"Did it hurt?" Greg asked seriously and out of the blue.

James was a little thrown at the sudden change of subject and thought it must have been that he was still half asleep. He indulged his sleepy friend anyway. "Did what hurt?" he asked with an arched brow.

It was the smile that crept across Greg face that said he was up to no good. "Why, when you fell from heaven, of course."

James confused look slowly turned to a small grin before he dismissed the corny pick up line and went back to the task at hand, his missing contact.

Giving a stretch Greg agreed to looking for the said contact on one condition. With him you never knew what insane thing he'd be asking for next but it turned out his only condition would be a goodbye kiss. With a small smirk and a roll of the eyes, James complied and thanked him in advanced before grabbing his briefcase and rushing out the door.

Greg still wondered how he had actually caught this guy before anyone else had.

Once he woke up enough Greg pulled himself out of bed and started his promised search for the missing contact. He crept about the bathroom floor, sink and cabinets or anywhere a contact could have made its escape to. The search had lasted a good half hour before he spotted the lost thing clinging onto a black towel sitting on the floor.

Glad to have that task done and over with he decided to get back to his day of leisure and promptly made his way back to the bed and tried to get back to sleep. James would be out all day with the lecture and class or two after lunch so he really had nothing better to do.

Having nothing better to do meant a day of doing nothing. Sleeping, watching tv… sleeping. He could be doing something productive like doing the laundry that actually needed to be done but he knew better. James would do that later and he was almost sure James wouldn't let him within three foot of the washer and dryer with his clothes.

Also being that he had no desire to fix something up for dinner… knowing that he'd most probably burn and destroy anything he tried to cook, it was better to leave that to James as well. Man, that guy just screamed domestic duties.

Having ruled out the top two chores, sleeping looked like the best thing to do that didn't deal with him ruining anything or tearing up the apartment. So with a loud yawn he did his duty, and tried to get back to sleep.

Sleep wasn't that hard to achieve. The amazing thing with Greg was that if you let him he could sleep all day with no problem. He'd get up periodically to use the bathroom or eat, but after he could get right back to bed. Lazy days were totally the best. But this lazy day had a little twist to it. Sleeping in your lover's bed you could be sure of one thing: it's going to be drenched in your lover's scent. Sleeping in your lover's bed meant it was likely you were going to dream about them. Greg also found that he could recall his dreams better on these said occasions.

And dream he did. Though the first dream made absolutely no sense once so ever, he could remember walking down an interstate with James, a small ice chest and a parking garage where Will Smith hit James with a car. Greg was ready to kill Smith before James got back up and said he was fine.

Yeah, weird.

But it wasn't the only dream that starred his friend. His second made much more sense but was much more.. sexual . Maybe it was because he had seen James in that suit when he was barely awake that morning, but in his head was an absolutely gorgeous James Wilson with an equally beautiful, perfectly tailored, blue, soft, cashmere suit. This on its own was pretty hot, but mixed with glasses, blue eye shadow, liner and glitter and things were strangely hotter than hot.

But it was those brown bedroom eyes and the things he was doing with that very pretty mouth that quickly made things spiral out of control. But sadly for him it didn't last much longer as he woke with his lover's name on his lips.

_Damn. _

It was all he could think. If only he could have stayed out in dreamland for just a little whiles longer he wouldn't be stuck with what he had to deal with now. What he disliked more than a wet dream was one that didn't finish you off. Knowing that this was something he most definitely wouldn't be able to sleep off, he pulled himself up from the bed, fished out a bottle of personal lubricant he had stashed in his nightstand drawer for such an occasion and made his way to the bathroom.

While he worked on getting things settled in the bathroom he didn't hear the sound of keys being shoved into the deadbolt lock as the door was unlocked and opened. "Greg?" James said as he walked in but got no answer in return. He was almost sure he would be home being that his car was out front, but that really didn't mean he was still around. He could have easily walked to where ever he wanted.

James gave a good stretch as he made his way to the refrigerator for something to eat. He was going to surprise Greg by showing up during lunch before he had to head back for his classes… but it looked like it was better to make sure and check ahead of time. When he closed the refrigerator door a sound caught his attention. He was sure it came from the bathroom. "Greg?" he called at the bathroom door but again got nothing in return. So with no answer he opened the door and looked inside.

Brown eyes opened wide with surprise as the redness flooded his features at the sight before him. "Oh!" was all he could get out. In a split second unbelievably blue eyes filled with lust and passion looked up and met stunned brown eyes before James quickly closed the door.

James' heart was pounding in his chest as he tried to calm his breathing. He still stood with his hand holding firmly to the doorknob from when he quickly closed the door while his brain tried to get back online. He shook his head hard before he pulled away from the door.

There was no doubting what he had just seen. Though he didn't actually _see_ anything, all the other sighs all screamed it: the movements, that expression, the hushed grunts... he had just walked in on Greg masturbating.

He was too embarrassed to speak or to even try to apologize through the door. He only made his way to the small kitchen and sat on the hard wood flooring with his back against the cabinets. And to further show his embarrassment it seemed the blush had no intentions of ever leaving his face.

It wasn't long before he heard the bathroom door open as the man in question made his way out the bathroom. When James opened his eyes and looked up, blue eyes started curiously at him. He looked like embarrassment was the farthest thing from his mind.

Knowing he should say something James quickly tried to stand, his face still red. "Greg, I'm sorry, I-I-I should have, I mean, I, Well..!" He was trying to get everything out so quickly he started to sputter nonsense but Greg got the idea of what he was trying to say.

"It's cool, no biggy." He tossed with a shrug.

"No, really, I didn't mean to walk in on you, I didn't, I-" James started to sputter again.

"Hey, hey, hey!" He barked trying to get James to calm down. "Will you relax? It's fine." But that didn't seem to stop James, it was almost as if wasn't even listening to him. "Hey, I get it, you're sorry. It's cool!" He called again. But still it didn't seem to work. So Greg went to what he knew. He grabbed hold of James' shoulders and gave him a shake. "Hey! Stop apologizing!"

He stopped and looked at Greg with eyes still wide and cheeks still flushed.

"Hey, what is your problem? Have you not walked in on someone before?" James shook his head. "Oh, well then. Look, it's fine, it happens, alright?" James nodded again as he tried to avert his eyes but noticed Greg's hands on his shoulders. He shot him a worried expression. He knew what his freaked out friend was asking. "Do you have absolutely no faith in me? I washed them, so calm down." He nodded sheepishly and Greg continued. "It's my fault, okay? I didn't lock the door. I wasn't expecting you home so early. See?" He pointed to his face, "It's nothing to be embarrassed about, everyone does it, even you. So relax, I couldn't care any less." James nodded, his blush a little lesser than before. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, Greg quickly cut him off. "And if I hear you say _I'm sorry_ one more time, I might have to hit you, okay?"

"Understood." He let out in a hushed voice, his eyes at the floor. He came home to surprise Greg, turned out he really did.

"So, what's got you home so early?"

"I, uhh.." he tried to think why he was there. "Oh, I came to have lunch." But the stall didn't go unnoticed by Greg.

"Hey, Jimmy.." he purred as he wrapped an arm around his friend's waist and pulled him close. "You know there's something that we could do that would make this water under the bridge that we could laugh about later." He leaned in a kissed that same pretty mouth from his dream and was granted entry when he tried to work his tongue passed teeth. Now this was a surprise. He didn't have to fight with him one bit to get him to give in. Seems embarrassment wasn't the only thing James felt when he walked in on him and as if to prove his point with a sudden buck of his hips, James' pressed himself harder against Greg.

Whoa, he didn't expect this in the slightest. He only expected to plant a little seed of thought in James' mind with him finally agreeing on the idea after it grew for a day or two. But when Greg pulled his mouth from James' and started to work kisses and nips down his jaw and to his soft neck it gave James a second to think.

"I-I have class." He panted and tried to push back against Greg's shoulders.

"Oh, come on, Jimmy! You are such a tease!" he laughed and rested his forehead on James' shoulder but didn't put up a fight. He needed some time anyway to recharge his batteries, sort to speak. Sex would be awkward if he couldn't perform. He'd then know how James' felt at his parent's house while drunk that night.

After some more sputter from James to justify himself he left back for class without so much as a bite of something to eat. But it was for the better, Greg would get to recharge and if his plan worked like it was originally supposed to, James would be thinking of him until he got home in a few hours.

And think about him he did. James did try to focus in his classes, he really did, but it seemed all he could think about were those blue eyes he had seen in the bathroom. He didn't know what he was going to do when he got back home, but he'd have to think of something. Greg, on the other hand, ate some leftovers that they had brought home with them from thanksgiving and watched TV.

--

It was the sudden knock at the front door that Greg quickly roused from the nap he didn't even realize he was taking. Slowly he stretched and stood with whoever it was at the door knocking again. "Yeah, yeah, I'm coming. Hold your wild horses." He called.

"At the rate you're going I might as well pull out my keys." A familiar voice said from the other side of the door.

"Yeah, well." House unlocked the door and pulled it open. "Too late."

Brown eyes peering out from behind black rimmed glasses caused something inside him stir. He forgot all about those glasses and that suit. He stepped aside and allowed James into his own apartment. Greg kept his position next to the door before closing it and staring (more like leering) at James as he watched him drop his briefcase on a chair and started to pull out various notes and papers and put them with his school work he always had set up on the small table.

But before Greg could ask anything about what was for dinner, James' stomach suddenly growled loudly. "Hungry?"

"I'm starving. I missed lunch." He supplied before he walked over to the closet, slipped his briefcase in.

"I wonder why?" Greg slipped off handedly.

But he didn't miss that glare shot his way before it was replaced with a small but charming smile. "You know, I'm still dressed for it. You feel like going somewhere nice to eat tonight?" With that smile, suit and glasses James could have suggested they go to the dump and look for something to eat that night and Greg would pounce at the idea with a _Fuck yeah!_

Lucky for him, James wasn't looking to see what exactly he could get his friend to agree to, but genuinely hungry he had a nice restaurant in mind. Never one to pass up free food, Greg merely slipped on his blazer and shoes and was ready to go.

Being the restaurant was a few miles away mixed with the cold snowy weather of late November, driving looked like the best option. Greg had asked where they were headed but the only response he got out of James was, "It's food. What do you care?" That sounded like a good enough answer.

Dinner turned out to be nice, it was a place James said he heard good things about and want to try it out. But when they got inside, Greg knew this had a different motive than just _I'm hungry_. The lighting alone was enough to give him this assumption. But the soft lighting mixed with the romantic atmosphere told him only one thing. This was James' idea of a date. Greg found it amusing that James knew him well enough not to say that they were going out on a date or anything else girly or romantic of the sort.

James knew if Greg wanted a girl he'd date a girl. And he also knew that if he had said anything that he would be teased relentlessly. All this just reinforced what Greg had already assumed about his friend. It was that one thing that if you asked any of James' future wives they all would have agreed on.

James Wilson was a true romantic.

The table they were seated at was like the others, a plain white table cloth, candles, and a long stemmed rose sitting comfortably in an etched glass bud vase. Greg couldn't believe it. While they sat waiting for their food to arrive he had propped his face in his hand and stared at his friend from across the table. He wanted to ask why here? What was the special occasion? Why now? But when he didn't say a word; only stared, he was met with a warm, affectionate smile in return.

The dinner didn't last too long, after they got their food, ate, enjoyed a drink or two (which Greg made sure wasn't enough to get James drunk) said a few kind words and paid for the dinner they were making their way out the door. The gesture was kind and thoughtful, but Greg really didn't know what to do or say in these situations and staring at each other from across the table all night didn't sound so romantic when you thought about it a little too long.

So, while they were making their way out the restaurant an idea came to Greg that would most probably get him in James' absolute good graces and as they passed an empty table he snatched up the rose that a sat on a nearby table and kept it hidden from view. He himself may not want flowers or chocolates or cards filled with mushy love but he knew that as right up James' alley. It also helped that Greg was a creature of opportunity as well. If that rose hadn't have been there within his grasp he probably wouldn't have gone out of his way to buy his friend one but he might had he ran into some while out buying something completely different.

He knew if you gave James a gift expressing your love his already strong loyalty would blossom tenfold and he'd always be right there by your side. Not in a bad, annoying way but in an _I'm going to spoil you with everything_ kind of way.

When he and James had made their way passed the restaurant's doors and onto the quiet sidewalk, James was confused to where his dinner guest had gone to when he didn't see him immediately in view. But before he could get a word out a tap on his right shoulder and a turn of a head reveled, not Greg, but a full red rose.

James let out a small chuckle and took the rose before Greg managed to whip around to his left side and kissed his cheek. If you were to asked, people would tell you that Greg was the last person they would ever expect to play the part of romantic but he did have his moments. He had no reason to be affectionate or loving to anyone else and lord knows that James would have killed him if he tried anything of the sort with anyone else. Before he knew it James for once didn't care that they were in a public place and kissed Greg back. He was sure the empty street was to blame for the sudden PDA, but it was progress nonetheless.

--

The ride back home was a quiet one. Greg was content that starvation had been pushed back another day and James seemed content to just think about something that had been rattling around in that head of his and by the time they had made it up to the apartment it seemed that James had come to a decision on the matter. Greg quickly learned how suddenly James could change his mood or behavior at the drop of a hat, because when they had arrived back James still seemed as business like as he had been since he put on that suit but in the blink of an eye after the two had become comfortable with Greg back down to his t-shirt and jeans James down to his vest and white dress shirt and red tie, he had gone from _business_ to _sex kitten_ in the time it took for someone to snap their fingers. Right when Greg glanced over at his friend he quickly did a double take. There, with his glasses sitting at the tip of his nose with those enticing brown eyes staring at him from over black frames, his fluid and graceful movements and smirk, all seemed to have Greg spellbound.

And before he knew it James was practically in his lap.

Straight away Greg's heart started to pound in his chest as his eyes fell partly closed with lust while James held his face close to his own and let his lips ghost over Greg's face. "Jimmy…" he breathed.

"What do you want, Greg?" he asked in a low seductive tone.

Greg was reacting immediately. "I want you." He growled.

"You already have me.." he purred as he pressed his body against his. Strong hands grabbed hold of his vest clad sides relishing the smooth fabric beneath his fingers. But suddenly the smooth fabric left his hands when James managed to get off him with those long legs of his and made his way over to the light switch and dimed the lights. Oh, promising indeed. Those bedroom eyes were convincing enough but when he made his way over to the bed and hopped onto it and laid back it pretty much screamed what was obviously about to happen. James didn't have to wait before Greg was on him.

Hands pawed at his vest excitedly. Sure, the vest looked absolutely wonderful on him and the eighteen shiny buttons (more like eight) down the front were nice as well but damn if that wasn't going to be hell getting it off him. Greg knew he couldn't just rip the vest off him; that would be the quickest way to get himself killed by James. He also had to admit that it would be ashamed to hurt the pretty thing. So, before things got too heated he fumbled and fought with each button making sure to have a nice balance of forcefulness and delicateness as he unfastened each one. The shirt though, that was a completely different story. He worked on a few buttons but didn't have to be as careful as he had with the vest; James had more white shirts. Glancing back up at James he noticed those plastic black frames still resting at the tip of his nose and not wanting those precious glasses to get hurt, he reached out and gently took them from James' face and casually placed them on the nightstand.

Greg pulled his own t-shirt off before he continued with the task in front of him. James liked being able to sit back for a change and let Greg do all the work and just as the though finished it was almost as if Greg had read his mind.

"I'm sure with all your pretty ladies you were in charge, weren't you?" he whispered hotly. "Well, I'm going to let you have a break for a change. Tonight I'm going to be calling the shots." Just the tone and sound of his voice was able to make a shiver run down his spine and straight down to his groin. Good thing he didn't have that third glass of wine. He could feel Greg tugging at his pants, trying to get them off but it was nearly no use without some kind of help. Feeling his frustration, he lifted his hips from the bed and allowed his soon to be lover to continue undressing him.

Before he knew it both of them were down to just their underwear with narrow blue eyes leering at him. "Damn, Jamie…" He got out, "It wasn't the alcohol. You really _are_ that gorgeous." He sat back as he tried to get a good look at the man he now he nearly fully naked. His eyes fell upon those legs. Sure they looked long when he wore pants, but damn if they didn't look even longer with nothing on. Greg let out a soft chuckle. "Jimmy, you have really, _really_ long legs." He leaned in and kissed his lips. "They're like that saying, you know, _legs that go on forever._" James smiled and chuckled as well against Greg's warm mouth.

"You like my legs?" he whispered.

"I _love_ your legs." He growled in a corrective response before he nipped at James' full pink lips. Now just because Greg was kissing him fully and eagerly and he was more than happily returning the gesture didn't mean he couldn't feel him trying to work his underwear off. Again James lifted his hips and allowed him to slip them off, too.

In the back of his mind James became a little nervous. Now he was fully naked, completely exposed to prying eyes with not one stitch to cover or protect him. He told himself he shouldn't worry; Greg apparently already thought he was absolutely gorgeous; it must have been that he had now made himself completely vulnerable to anything. But his being completely exposed wasn't for long when he felt Greg lay his warm body fully over his. Without waiting for the man laying on him, he wrapped his arms around Greg's neck and crashed his lips to his. Greg was more than happy to oblige but it was take long before he felt those lips start to tray lower to his jaw and neck.

Brown eyes watched curiously as Greg kissed, nipped and sucked down from his neck, chest and down to his belly but when he started to make his way even lower James was hit with a twinge of nervousness. It was a normal response; going through with this would ultimately mean that he wasn't a straight boy like his father always wanted. This could change his whole view on everything. For all he knew he could dismiss women completely.

It scared him.

But it was the sudden feeling of that wet hot mouth on him that immediately ceased all thoughts that were rattling around in his head and nearly made him bite his tongue. His hands clutched at the sheets as a moan escaped from his lips with him throwing hi head back. All it took was one involuntary buck of his hips before a pair of strong hands grabbed hold of them and pinned him down to the bed.

Now, this wasn't the first time he had gotten a blow job. In the past some of his girlfriends had been willing and sure it was a blow job, you can't really completely go wrong with those (If you're at least trying). They were great... But damn! The guy between his thighs knew exactly what he was doing. He thought his girlfriends had been good but this exceeded them tenfold and what made it even that small bit better were those long precise fingers that he watched play the piano at _Anastasia's_ not but a few days ago now massaging his hips. He was breathing hard and voicing off soft encouragements to his lover before brown eyes slowly opened before widening and trying to take in every detail of what was going on before him.

He was transfixed on the image of Greg sucking him off; he just couldn't pull his eyes away. As just as if he could feel James' stare, because blue eyes looked up before he pulled back slowly with a slow but teasing smile, "Don't be scared, Jamie." He said in a husky voice, "This is what it feels like to be with a man…" he watched James with a flirtatious smile as he held the tip of his tongue between his teeth. "See, unlike a woman or a girl I have the same pieces and part as you. I know where to touch.." he drew out as he ran a hand up James' thigh, "How to touch.." he repeated then action, this time only letting his fingertips brush the sensitive pale skin, "..and how much to touch to give you more pleasure than you could imagine."

James' breath hitched in his throat at even the prospects of such pleasure and passion. Slowly he let go of the sheets with his left hand and reached out and messed with his lover's hair.

"It may take a few tried before we get all the fine tuning down but when it's all said and done; no one will get you purring.. like me." He said ardently. Sure the man was definitely very full of himself, but James couldn't care any less at that moment; especially when he had gone back to the previous task of sucking his lover off.

But that again didn't go on too long before he pulled back when he thought James was close but that didn't stop James from letting out that sad disapproving whine at the loss of touch. Greg had more in store for the pretty man as he climbed back onto him and started to kiss those sensual lips of his again. James kissed back immediately even as he felt he was on the verge of being tortured. He was at a loss and he knew all he needed was some more well timed strokes and he'd be done. Going on that notion he bucked his hips and thrust himself against Greg's belly.

Greg, of course, put an end to that quick. "Ah, no you don't." he crawled farther onto James and pinned him down by putting all his weight onto his shins and knees and placed them down on James' hips. Now this was _really_ starting to become torture. He wanted to buck and thrust his aching need against anything he could and get off since Greg didn't seem to be doing anything about it. He let out a cross between a whine and a frustrated curse before he tried to give another buck of his hips but there was no way he was going to get Greg off him that easily. "Will you relax? I'll take care of it but the longer you fight; the longer I'll take." He warned.

With another whine, James closed his eyes tight and tried to push the nagging want temporarily from his mind.

Pleased that his lover was listening, Greg placed a hand on James' shoulder as he reached out with his left and opened the nightstand drawer and pulled out the nearly empty bottle of lubricant he used earlier that day. He chuckled as he looked down to find desperate brown eyes glaring at him. "Someone's upset." He smirked. Trusting his pinned lover enough not to try to fight or get away; he got off James and squeezed the bottle's contents into his hand. Not wanting to hurt _his_ Jamie too badly, he made sure not to skimp on the lubricant and pretty much used the last of the bottle also trying his best not to get himself too worked up as he applied it.

James was just happy to have Greg's full weight off his hips but he did wish the man would just get the show on the road. He also knew better than to fight or complain. This was taking years as it was; better not to push it and have it take decades. In the commotion, Greg nudged his knee at the inside of James' thigh with him immediately giving in and opened them but felt himself become increasingly nervous the lower Greg's hands slipped down his body.

"Okay, I'm going to try something, but you're going to have to relax. Alright?" James just stared as Greg further tried to explain. "If you don't relax it's not a matter of _might;_ it _will_ hurt and frankly, that's not what I'm here for." Greg immediately knew what that look James was giving him meant. "Hey," he whispered as he brought himself close with his blue eyes just inches from those brown eyes. "We have all the time in the world tonight. I'm not going to rush you into it. Like I said: quick, rushed and scared it'll hurt and that's definitely not what I want to do but if you'd rather just not even go there now that's fine, too." He offered with a shrug as he tried to look indifferent to either way he chose.

"And what..?" James trailed off sheepishly.

"Anal.. sex?" he stared at James with raised brows as if possibly trying to convince him to agree.

James stared back for a moment or two. "Isn't that.. a little fast of you?" he breathed with Greg lifting his brows further as if asking him to explain. James really wasn't in the mood for talking. "You're used to.. moving quickly, aren't you?"

Greg sat down on James' belly and was careful not to let his full weight down. "Maybe.. Possibly."

"You mean _yes_." He took a deep breath and let it back out. "D-Do you have a condom?" his voice was nervous and unsure.

"No, but it's fine."

"What? How do you know? Have you been tested?"

"Don't worry about it, okay? I don't have anything."

"Have you been cleared by a doctor?"

Greg couldn't believe this. One second the guy is putty in his hands and then he starts talking about condoms and being tested. "I just know, okay?"

James closed his eyes tight as he tried to get his brain to work pass all the haze of lust and pleasure. "No, not okay..." he swallowed hard.

What was it with this guy? He _really _must have been listening in Sex Ed, but knowing that James was obviously not going to give in; Greg knew he had to come clean.

"Fine." he hissed trying to get his own brain to work. "I had a close call with the last guy I was with and it wasn't until the next morning someone told me they heard he had HIV, so I did everything I was supposed to and went to the doctor and got tested for that and a shit load of other things. I'm clean. Do you want to see my papers?" He growled frustrated less than an inch away from his face.

James shook his head.

"Good, and what about you? Have _you_ been tested?" James opened his mouth to speak but no words came out. Greg knew he had nothing to worry about in the first place. "Don't bother. You're _way_ too careful to have anything. I trust you." He got back up on his hands and knees before he continued. "Now do you want to keep talking about bullshit, or do you want to continued where we left off?" Before James could even get a word out Greg was back to kissing him again. But just as he felt Greg's hand against his ass he immediately felt very uncomfortable and pulled away.

"Just.. let me get used to the idea of being gay with you and we'll go from there." He reasoned, "It's too much.. too quick."

Greg rolled his eyes and sighed. "Fine, fine. Just think about it. It's not bad once you get used to it. I mean.. you're a doctor.. or will be. I'm sure you know what's going on in there.. sexually, that is." He placed the top of his head against James' forehead. "Now, doctor, what do you suggest I do with this?" he asked with his eyes looking farther down his body to his lubricated erection.

Without too much thought on the matter, James reached up and placed his left hand against Greg's side and pushed. Seeing what he was trying to achieve, Greg gave no resistance and fell onto his left side next to his lover.

James pulled himself up onto his hands and knees and positioned himself over Greg whose blue eyes were leering up at him. "Oh, so you're in charge now? Fine. Make me beg for it!" he teased.

"I don't know what I'm doing." James warned.

He got a shrug in return. "We all start that way, don't we? Just do what comes naturally and I'll tell you if it feels good." Greg laid there as he waited for his lover to perform some sort of action that would help someone (if not both of them) have a very good time.. but none came. James sat so pensive as he tried to figure out where to start first. Greg had to say.. that expression wasn't sexy in the least. "Relax, this isn't a math equation, you don't have to think so hard." He reassured with a playful smile. "Just.. touch me."

With a timid nod, James placed a gentle hand to his side. Greg rolled his eyes. Sure, he wasn't one of the pretty and delicate girls James' was most probably used to, but was pleasing him really _that_ different?

"I have a feeling we'll be here all night with nothing to show for it if you keep on like that." James pulled a slightly sad expression before Greg tried to give him some ideas. "Look, Just touch me like you would one of your pretty girls, just switch things up a little like how you liked to be touched. Better yet, touch me how you like your pretty girls to touch you.." he breathed huskily. With this small bit of advice, James leaned in and did as he did as he could any of his past girls. With a gentle yet strong touch, James let his hands roam and caress every inch his fingers could reach. This was more like it! Greg gave a slow and seductive smile up at his lover. James knew what he was doing, the man may be a novice when it came to having sex with a guy, but was certainly not a novice to sex in general.

By being in favor of all this attention Greg didn't mind handing the reigns over to James as he laid back and took it all in. In the back of his mind he vaguely wondered if Jimmy wanted to try his hand at giving a blow job, but before he could even open his mouth to get the words out James bucked his hips with his erection clumsily brushing against his with Greg letting out a deep groan. James was definitely onto something. "Oohn.. Jamie, _that's_ how you do it!" upon hearing he was doing something right, he repeated the action a few more times for good measure. "that's good..! errn.. don't stop, Jamie! Don't stop.. don't.. stop..!" Greg bucked his own hips and brushed his needy erection against James'.

And that was all it took to flip the switch. With all the encouragement he needed, James quickly started to thrust his hips faster and harder as he tried to get as much friction as he could. Greg let out a loud and deep throaty moan as he writhed beneath him. For a first time with a guy he wasn't doing so bad now that he finally realized it wasn't that hard to please your lover if you just gave it a chance.

Greg reached up and looped his left arm around James' neck and pulled the man down until his forehead was pressed against his as his other hand held tightly to his lover's hip and he felt the powerful muscles contract and work with each thrust.

It was obvious that even now James made an effort to keep others in mind as he tried not to make a sound for fear of disturbing the neighbors where as Greg couldn't care any less. Actually, when Greg did hear one of those quiet lustful moans escape past the younger man's lips, he found it so intoxicating it nearly pushed him over the edge. Greg wanted a man with no shame, he wanted to hear James at the full throttle, he wanted to know that James was enjoying this just as much as he was.

"Louder.."

"Wha..?" he barely got out in a breathless whisper.

He tried to hold himself back, "Moan louder.. I want to hear you getting off." Wanting nothing more than to please his lover in any way he could (and finish himself off) he listened to Greg's every command. He knew listening to your partner during sex was then best and only way to truly please them. And with each thrust James shamelessly let out a moan or grunt that sent shivers down Greg's spine and that was it. With all his senses working in tandem it didn't take much more than one last thrust and a deep and desperate moan from James to push him that last little bit with the name _Jamie_ rushing past his parted lips.

Greg only wanted a few seconds to collect himself, but knew by the feeling of his impatient Jamie still grinding his hard on against his most extremely sensitive of areas, he knew that wasn't going to happen. Knowing that James was still desperate to finish, he pushed the said man off him before he grabbed hold of the empty bottle of lubricant all the while James just wanted to get this over with (not that he wasn't enjoying himself fully).

He stared and tried to be impossibly patient as he watched Greg shake the bottle and tried to get what little was left to the sides of the bottle. James knew he wouldn't leave him like this; he tried to tell himself that over and over so he could resist the urge to finish himself off without Greg's help. After a moment or two and when he felt he had enough to work with, Greg laid back down hooked a leg around on of James', who was still on his hands and knees, with the man crawling over to him again.

Brown eyes stared desperately as he waited for Greg to do something, and just as he wasn't about to voice his annoyance to the whole situation he felt one of those strong slicked up hands close around him and started to pump his erection. Immediately out of reflex, James stared to thrust hard into his hand with Greg tightening his grip just a little bit.

Skilled with the prowess of knowing just how to please a man; it wasn't long before Greg had James panting, moaning and within just a few more thrusts until he hit his goal but before he could get those last few thrusts in; Greg pulled his hand away. He wanted to get a glimpse of those closed brown eyes; he wanted to see them while he pushed him to the point of no return and at his peak of ecstasy.

"Oh my god, what now?!" James growled impatiently with those brown eyes glaring angrily at the man beneath him.

Greg smiled. Never in a million years would he say he didn't enjoy every second of making his lover sexually frustrated, but he also knew when it was time to give it up. "I'll finish you off on one condition, you look at me." By this point James was willing to do anything to avoid anymore abuse by his lover's hand he locked his brown eyes into the blue ones before him while he gave a desperate stare. "If you make an effort to keep your eyes on mine; I'll finish you off." He nodded with his expression distraught. And as promised, Greg once again grabbed hold of him and started to pump him again. With James being as close as he was, it didn't take but a few seconds before he let out a chocked gasp and let loose all over Greg's belly with those brown eyes staring into his blue ones the whole time.

He smiled as James lazily and tiredly collapsed onto him trying to allow his aching muscles a much deserved rest. James didn't feel like ever getting up again as Greg ran a soothing hand up and down his sweat drenched back. Once all the excitement was over and calm and James had managed to finish catching his breath and his pounding heart back to normal, he lazily glanced up and was greeted with a soft relaxed smile. When James finally did try to get up, he could feel the wet stickiness that was slowly trying to dry on his belly and anywhere else it had managed to get on.

"We're messy… and sticky." He spoke sheepishly as he rolled off Greg and stretched. Knowing that one thing James didn't like was being uncomfortably dirty, he reached over and grabbed his discarded t-shirt and used it to wipe his tired lover's belly. "That's your shirt." James pointed out as he watched Greg clean the pale skin of his belly and any other places where his skin had become sticky from their passion.

"It can be washed." Was his reply before he worked on cleaning himself and tossed the soiled shirt onto the floor. James stretched back out and let out a yawn before he pulled himself up onto his hands and knees and pulled the covers back before getting under them. Feeling incredibly lazy, Greg was nearly ready to just go to sleep on top the covers until James coaxed him to get under them and curl up with him. He may be hot and sweaty now but the room was still cold.

"Please don't ask me to do anything else." James requested kindly as he closed his eyes. Greg only laughed and shook his head before he gave in and snuggled up with his tired lover and received a few sleepy, affectionate kisses on his lips and anywhere else James could reach.

Turned out Greg was right about one thing; James loved to cuddle. And to Greg, that was perfectly fine.


	11. Cold Snow, Ice Cream, and Red Thread

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_**CHAPTER TEN:**__ Cold Snow, Ice Cream, and Red Thread_

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The next morning it didn't take long for Greg to remember the events from the night before as he awoke with a very naked James Wilson pressed against his equally naked self. And, oh, if he didn't feel as proud as a peacock with himself. He had finally managed to get his Jimmy to give in and… well, actually, James was the one who got the whole thing started, in a sense, but that wasn't important! All that mattered was that Greg got James in that bed and nothing crazy happened to prevent the evening from going as planned.

Maybe he could thank himself for leaving the bathroom door unlocked during lunch.

While he was curled up on his side, James was curled up in his arms. Their legs were tangled together and in messy sweaty sheets as Greg kept his face buried in that sweat stiffened brown hair but he knew better than anyone that a great night didn't mean a great following morning. He was still surprised that James had finally given in and wondered how the man would act in the painful truth of day. He may have been fine with it last night while it was all going on, that doesn't mean that he won't go into some bout of self loathing that could ultimately destroy him.

Needless to say, Greg wasn't actually looking forward to the moment James woke up. There was absolutely no way of knowing what would happen. Hoping for the best, Greg placed a kiss on the top of James' hair and rested his chin there as he stared at the curtains covering the sliding glass door to the small balcony.

He laid there quietly for what felt like the longest time in the stillness of morning as he turned his gaze to the red LED of the alarm clock. About twenty minutes went by before James finally woke up. The only thing he could do in that instant was hold his breath. James gave a stretch and when he felt bare skin rub against skin and froze. Greg braced himself for whatever bad was about to come. For him nothing good ever seemed to work, so he didn't see why this would be any different. But the only thing he received was a soft and modest kiss to his neck.

Feeling he was finally in the clear for the morning; Greg exhaled with all his anxiety going with it.

After four days of no classes, having to get up and go back was a pain. Greg knew not going would only delay the inevitable. He'd have to go eventually to get his degree; he might as well go now. And if the time on the clock had any say in it, it would tell him he had a half hour to get ready and off to class. No shower was out of the question today. The last thing he wanted to do was go to school and work smelling of last night's sweat and sex. Lucky for him James didn't have class for another hour, so he didn't have to worry about taking up the shower.

"You know, we could save time by-"

James quickly cut him off as he pulled on his discarded boxer briefs from the night before. "If your next words include _shower together_, forget it. Everyone knows that, in fact, does not save time but does the exact opposite." He grabbed his glasses from the nightstand and slipped them on.

Greg found that there was nothing, dare he say, cuter than a sleepy James Wilson dressed in only a pair of boxer briefs and glasses with his normally perfect hair mussed. He let out a laugh at the sight and made his way into the bathroom. It seemed James was getting very good at reading him as well.

--

Being back at school only affirmed how much it annoyed him. Sure he had to know how to work the math for this, that, and the other, but that sure as hell didn't mean he had to enjoy it. Work, though… work was okay enough. Seemed there were days when stupid, annoying people took the day off, too. Or at least that was how it felt to Greg.

Something he found he could be pleased about was the weather. Snow still blanketed everything it landed on outside and the weather man promised more to fall over the next few days. There was something about snow that always brought out the kid in him (brought it out more so than normal, that is).

He only had an hour or so to go before he got off of work, and James had suggested that he meet him there after he was done with class, which would be about the same time. He couldn't wait. Currently, the only thing he wanted to do when he saw that pretty face was nail him with the first snowball. He tried the other day at James' parents, but it turned out that he had some pretty quick reflexes and was able to shield himself. But not again, he was going to nail him and the war would begin!

Oh, he was going to have some fun.

After a few more tables, a smoothie on the side, and dealing with a near death experience with a hotdog (it was best not to ask), it was finally time to clock out. Greg stretch out at a nearby booth and ordered up another smoothie while he waited for his buddy to show up. The sooner he showed up the sooner he could get this war started.

But when forever went by in the amount of a half hour, Greg was starting to think that James may have forgotten about their rendezvous. Annoyed, he slipped on his coat and made his way out the café. He let out a breath when the cold air from outside rushed at him when he opened the door. He really wished it didn't have to be so cold out when it snowed. He took a small glance down the sidewalk for any sighs of James but none was found. So with a sigh and a shake of his head, Greg turned to make his way on to the apartment alone, but he didn't get but a few steps before a tightly packed snowball hit him square on the back of his head with a familiar laugh reaching his ears. Quickly, he turned around to find James with a big triumphant smile. "I've been waiting forever for you to walk out here!" he laughed. But the look on Greg's face told him only one thing.

Run.

And run he did. He took off as fast as his cold legs could take him down the street with Greg hot on his trail. "GET YOU ASS BACK HERE AND TAKE YOU PUNISHMENT LIKE A MAN!!" Greg called after him.

"You think I'm cra-Whaa!!" James yelped back as he hit a particular slippery spot of concrete before he quickly regained his footing and kept running. Seeing James' slip, Greg simply leapt over the slippery bit.

"WHEN I GET A HOLD OF YOU YOU'RE GONNA WISH YOU DIDN'T START THIS WAR!!" He was almost in reach of James' long striped scarf, and he was even tempted to snatch it, but the thought of bringing his friend to the ground by chocking him with his scarf didn't sound as fun as some might think. It looked like he would have to just depend on his legs to take him closer but that turned out to be easier said than done. James was very good and keeping just out of his grasp, and the move he played by jumping up onto a fixed bench and leaping over the back of it was a nice touch. Made it looked like James knew what he was doing. But Greg knew; he knew that James could run and hide but when he got a hold of him he'd get him back. How? Just yet he wasn't sure, but he'd think of something.

Making sure he had the righter way and that no cars were near, James shot across the street and into the park he frequented before he found something to do on his spare time. Greg knew this could be bad news. There was so much James could use to make himself hidden from view, especially when he knew the place much better than him. For all he knew, when James turns up missing, he could be hiding in the children playground equipment.

He could just imagine James shoving a kid out of one of the small train tunnels to hide himself. And just as he thought; it happened. Darting around a corner, James had managed to hide himself away from Greg's sights.

_Now where the hell did he get off to?_

He really didn't have to worry about the kid's equipment being that all that was on the other side of the park. James had to be close. Where, thought, he didn't know. It didn't take him long to figure out a way to find his hidden enemy when he stumbled onto some footprints in the snow. The park itself was pretty empty, so he was certain these were the tracks of a fleeing James Wilson. He followed the tracks through a small thicket of trees that he wouldn't have thought to even look for James in, but when he came out the other side he was met by a good sized clearing. With a few more steps there and a couple of glances here he spotted his quarry standing in a small alcove in the tree line near a small pond.

There was something strangely handsome about James as he stood alone staring off at the small somewhat frozen pond. He was sure it had to do with him dressed in that long dark wool coat that clung to his slight figure, the long striped scarf around his neck and the fresh snowflakes that had started falling gracefully from the clouds above landing on his chestnut brown hair.

Greg suddenly put the war on hold as he gawked across the snowy field at his friend.

He didn't try to get closer or move away, he just watched. There was something about the sight that kept him transfixed. Sure, he could go over there as stealthfully as the crunching snow under his shoes would allow, but Prince Charming wouldn't look as pretty running away from him as he did standing there taking in his surroundings covered in snow.

And just as if he knew Greg was watching him and thinking about him, James looked up and spotted his pursuer across the field. Seeing that Greg was too busy gawking to pose a threat, he made his way over to him.

"What are you doing standing alone here in the snow?" He held that charming smile that seemed to make Greg a little less harsher than usual.

"I was following your footprints." He answered frankly as he looked back down with the still falling snow working on coving their tracks. "You look nice." He complemented awkwardly.

James let out a laugh, "Yeah, I can tell if your ogling was anything to go by."

"I wasn't ogling!" he defended playfully, "I was taking in the lovely view."

"Yeah, by _leering_." He was now standing with his hands on his hips with a bright smile on his face.

"It's the best way to look at something pretty!" Greg pointed out. James only shook his head. Not moving away, James allowed Greg to get close to him and wrap a friendly arm around his shoulder and placed a kiss against that snow speckle hair. But there was something about it all that kept James from putting his guard completely down. And with good reason.

"So, Jimmy, you ready for that punishment?" Before he could get the sentence completely out, James quickly wriggled from his grasp and took off like a shot through the falling snow. "YOU'RE NOT GOING TO GET AWAY _THAT_ EASILY!!" He called with his hands funneled around his mouth to help his voice project better. And with his threat being said, he took off right after his fleeing friend.

When they got out of the park and back on sidewalk Greg knew he could have some kind of advantage. He could hear James trying to be polite as he rushed passed people and tried not to crash into them with _pardon me_ and _excuse me_ being shouted at them. Did he always have to be so polite all the time? It was like he believed the world would cave in on itself if he were to be rude.

And just like the first time James had managed to get out of his sight for just a second and hide. Greg really should have paid more attention. He looked around the street, across the street, the sidewalk and anywhere his eyes could look but it was no use. "Where are you, Jimmy!" he called out. But of course he got no answer. Rather than get himself lost by wandering farther down a street that James obviously didn't go down, he waited. He knew his kindhearted Jimmy would never abandon him.

While he stood waiting, Greg let out a scoff as he watched a guy walk down the street while eating some ice cream. "What kind of idiot buys ice cream on a snow day?" he said out loud to himself.

"I guess that would be me." A voice spoke from behind him; emerging from the ice cream shop just in time to hear the comment. Greg quickly made an about-face to see James with a slightly embarrassed smile as he held two ice cream cones. One was a vanilla and strawberry mixture with a pinkish color to it where as the other was a green mint and chocolate concoction. He walked up to him as Greg watched curiously as he worked on the pink vanilla strawberry combination. James held out the green mint cone. "Will you take this before... well, it's not going to melt in this weather; take it before I get tired of holding it." Without having to ask twice, Greg took the cone and started eating it. "Does this make you an idiot, too?"

"Nope."

"But you're eating ice cream-"

"I said _buy_ not _eat_. And since I didn't buy it, I'm not an idiot." He pointed out. James didn't say anything, only rolled his eyes but it was the laugh that Greg let out following the cocky statement that told him he was only joking with James giving a smile in return.

For whatever reason they had in their heads, instead of going inside to sit in the heated ice cream parlor, the two opted to sit on the steps outside the door. As expected, the ice cream shop didn't get much business on such a cold day so the two didn't have to worry about too much unwanted foot traffic.

It seemed that since their time spent together the night before James had allowed himself to be a little more accepting of the more hidden side of himself and as if to prove this, he didn't put up any objection to Greg as he sat down right against him as he used the wall he leaned on as a barrier against any wind. "You're choice in ice cream in unadventurous." Greg pointed out as he eyed the pinkish white mound of Ice cream that James was currently licking on.

But he didn't find that fair. "What? I like strawberries.. and vanilla. Just because I'd rather eat that than something more exotic doesn't mean it's unadventurous. And besides, mint chocolate swirl is hardly exotic."

"More so than strawberries."

"Do you want to try some? It's good." He held out his ice cream cone to Greg with him taking a somewhat modest bite in House terms. He had to admit it was good. It wasn't the fake strawberry stuff that some will try to pass off. No, the strawberries were real enough; he could feel a small seed or two stuck in his teeth but it was good nonetheless.

"Yeah, well… it's good; I guess." He took a bite or two from his own mint chocolate before he decided to return the favor. "You want a bite of mine?"

James knew being given the chance to get any food, if even just a bite from Greg was certainly an honorary thing. So, he agreed but with Greg hardly even paying attention to the distance between he and James, managed to get some of the ice cream on his friend's face and nose. James slipped off his leather glove and wiped the smudge of minty sweetness off his cheek and licked his fingers.

"Sorry." Greg chuckled at look he had gotten in return before James managed to take a bite of the offered ice cream. It was good. He liked mint ice cream; he just simply wanted vanilla and strawberries.

"It's good. Thanks." Maybe it was too cold for him to realize he still had a smudge of green mint ice cream on his nose as he went back to eating his ice cream, but it didn't go unnoticed to Greg.

He smiled as an idea came to mind. "Hey, Jimmy." He said man turned to him, brows raised for him to continue as he worked on slipping his glove back on while holding his ice cream cone. "You still have ice cream-" he cut himself off as he leaned forward and with a modest lick or two of his tongue, licked off the bit of ice cream, "-on your nose." He finished. He watched James with a lazy but kind stare and with a small amused laugh, James leaned his shoulder against Greg's as he kept eating his ice cream.

--

After they had finished their cold and sweet treats, the sun slowly started to make its way down with dusk taking over. Knowing that no sun meant even more cold the two had decided it was time to get back home. While they were making their way up the stairs to the apartment Greg let James know he had some special planed but when he asked what it was all he got in return was, "I'm sure it's something you'll find sickeningly romantic."

Once inside, James worked on removing his gloves, scarf, coat and all the bulk he had been wearing to protect him from the cold as he curiously watched as Greg reached into one of his jacket's inner pockets and pulled out a long red silk cord. He kept on watching as his friend made his way over to the table, and with a tab bit of difficulty, tied one end of the cord around his ring finger into a bow. "What's that?" he pointed.

"It's a silk string I picked up from some Asian shop on my lunch break. Give me your hand." As curious as ever, he did as he was told with Greg doing the same to him with the other end of the sting and tied a bow around his ring finger.

He rolled the cord between his index finger and thumb as he eyed that soft string. "Okay… so we're tied together, now what?"

"Have you ever heard of _The Red thread of Fate_, or _The Red String of Destiny_?" he shook his head. "Well, it's an Asian legend that people, who are fated to meet, be together and be, well, be soul mates, are tied together by a red string." He mumbled to soul mates part, "There's a saying that goes with it… something about.. shit how did that go?" he thought a moment to himself as James' eyes followed the cord from his finger and onto the floor through the loops and turns until it went back up and to where it was tied around Greg's finger. "It says something about how an invisible red thread is connected to those who are destined to meet, no matter the time of place, and… the thread can stretch and get tangled but it will never break."

"Where'd you hear about that?" James asked with a soft smile. Greg was right; it did have a nice romantic ring to it.

"I heard about it a while back in Japan. It's more of a Chinese thing, but Japan's pretty much taken it up as well."

"You've been to Japan?" This was news to James.

He nodded. "Yeah, I've been to a lot of places. My father was a Marine in the military and got stationed all over the place."

"Wow, where else have you gone? What places have you seen?" he asked with excitement lining his voice.

"Let's see, there's Japan, Egypt- wait, you've gotten me off track!" He barked. "No, that's for another time. But this," He said as he grabbed the cord with his right hand and held it up, returning back to the left off subject. "I wanted to do this to make up for some things I'm just not good at. I might not give those charming little gifts that people in love give each other or I might not say half the kind or sweet things I should say to you, so I was hoping to use this as one big thing that would possibly make up for all of the things I don't say or do."

He could tell by the look on James' face that he definitely struck the love chord he was hoping to hit.

He started to think a bit more out loud on the subject, "The legend goes on more about how the string is actually tied around the two people's ankles, but I heard about it being tied around the ring or pinky finger… but I could totally be lying about that. I could be doing this completely wrong, but hey, it's the thought that counts… right?"

And before he could say anything else, James shot forward and pulled him into a tight loving squeeze of a hug. "I love you, too, Greg." He said simply.

_We'll be okay._ Greg thought as he held onto James in the middle of the apartment with a red silk cord tying them together.


	12. Bury Those Painful Memories

_**CHAPTER ELEVEN:**__ Bury Those Painful Memories_

---

The next few weeks that went by were peaceful enough. There was work and school and James still took over most the domestic chores (save when he would jump Greg's case about cleaning up everyone once and a while). And Being that his bills were at a minimum thanks to James who paid for the groceries and the rent, Greg was thinking about getting a guitar.

James thought it was a pretty good idea. It would give Greg a chance to keep himself occupied and his musical skills sharp anytime he wanted rather than having to depend on a restaurant piano or an old nearly out of tune piano in an abandoned theatre. He wanted to check out local music stores before they left for James' parents the next day. That way he could get a look at what they had there and check out some music stores while in Philadelphia and think about what he wanted to buy.

James was also eager to hear Greg with a guitar. Apparently, the guitar was the instrument he played best, save for the piano, of course.

But for James that night's domestic duties called his name in the form of dirty dishes. Knowing that if they didn't get done by him they would just sit over night and into the morning, then in the hectic crazy of the morning of getting everything together for browsing music stores and heading out to his parents, they'd still sit. And before he knew it three days would go by and nasty, smelly, dirty dishes would still be waiting to be washed.

Like always, the job of washing dishes was easy enough if you caught them while they were still freshly dirty, and while he added more soap onto the dingy old yellow sponge, he made a mental note to get some new ones. This poor sponge has seen its fair share and it was time to retire it.

But when he was on his last dish he saw something in the corner of his eye dart across the floor and behind the wall unit. He quickly abandoned his post at the sink.

"Whaaa!! What the fuck was that!?!" James hollered as he quickly threw himself on the bed to get his feet off the ground. He knew he should go check it out since he knew there was no way in hell he was going to sleep knowing some furry beast was hiding behind the wall unit. Mustering up as much courage he could he walk softly to the wall unit. Everything inside him told him not to do it; to just leave it be, but he knew what had to be done. Carefully he pulled the piece of furniture from the wall and skittishly peeked behind it.

But it was the sight of something in the shadows waving its hairy legs defensively at him that shattered all his reserve. With another frightened holler he made his way back onto the bed.

"What are you screaming about?!" Greg barked annoyed as he walked out the bathroom still holding his spit covered toothbrush.

By this point James was on his hands and knees on the bed looking at Greg with an expression that screamed total freak out. "There's something huge and hairy behind the wall unit!"

He rolled his eyes, "God, Jimmy, you are such a _girl_!" he made his way to the wall unit and looked into the shadows. He could see something but he couldn't make it out. "It's probably just a sock or something." He teased.

"I don't know what all you've seen, but I've never seen a sock run across the floor!"

"What does it look like?"

"It's furry and black!"

"Sounds like a rat to me."

"WHATEVER! JUST GET RID OF IT!!" he cried.

He tilted his head to the side to try and get a better look. "Yeah, the last thing we need is the plague here, right?" After he tried and not being able to see in the dark, Greg went into the kitchen and grabbed the flashlight off the fridge. Oh, he was going to make sure that James never heard the end of this. He shined the light into the dark crevice behind the wall unit. "Oh.. well, then." Without another word Greg switched off the flashlight, turned around, and made his way to the front door, opened it and left if open as he left.

"Hey!! Where are you going?!" He heard James call out as he made his way down the hall over to the third floor stairs. He went upwards in search of apartment 3G and finding it wasn't hard. It's not like someone was trying to hide it from him. Sure that this was the place he was supposed to be, he knocked.

Without so much as a _who is it?, _the door opened. "Hello?" A somewhat stocky fellow with dark shoulder length straight hair and glasses opened the door. He stared cautiously at the man at his door, and who wouldn't if you had a tall gruff looking fellow who you absolutely did not know standing outside your doorway?

Greg didn't attempt a kind salutation. "I think I found something of yours."

The man's confused expression lit up immediately. "You found Maurice?" Without another word, Greg gestured for the guy to follow. The way back to the apartment was quick and right when Greg walked into the apartment it turned out that that was James' queue to start his bickering on being abandoned without even being told what was hiding out with him.

"Well, it's about time you showed back - ! oh, hello." He quickly stopped his bickering when the other fellow walked into the apartment.

Greg merely turned the flashlight back behind the wall unit with the fellow taking a peek behind it. "Maurice!" Excited, the man got on his hands and knees with Greg pushing the wall unit farther from the wall. Now being able to reach, the man grabbed the offending creature. It was only when he stood back up James got a look at what had been hiding back there.

There in the stranger's hands stood a rather large Mexican Redknee Tarantula. James only backed a little closer to the headboard. He wasn't a fan of spiders and his worried brown eyes screamed it. Of course, this didn't get past Greg. "You wanna hold him, Jimmy?"

"Oh, he's really friendly!" The guy chimed in.

"N-n-no, thanks. I'm fine with just looking." He backed up farther.

After being thanked a hundred more times to getting him and not bringing Maurice's life to an end like some people would, he took his leave saying he was off to return the tarantula to his cage with some fresh crickets.

"How'd you…?" James trailed off. Really? How did he know where to find this creature's owner?

"I heard him talking to the Super downstairs the other day about how he lost his tarantula and that if one turned up it was most probably his. How it got in, though, I have no clue. But it did it."

"Just as long as it doesn't come back." After hopping off the bed James went back to the dishes while Greg stretched out on the bed.

"How's Christmas at your place?" Greg asked, "Is there a crazy Aunt Brenda who likes to pinch cheeks and fruitcake?" he made an obnoxious gagging sound after fruitcake.

James didn't know what the big deal with fruitcake was. He thought they were alright but by how everyone else made it out, he was the only one who thought so. "Actually, my family's Jewish." He enlightened his friend as he drained the sink and slipped the clean and dry dishes on the shelf.

"Oh, well, in that case, how's Hanukkah at your place?" he corrected.

"It's tame enough, they celebrate Passover and everything."

"When's Hanukkah this year?" He turned his gaze over to James.

"It was the sixth through the fourteenth."

"Was?"

He shrugged, "It's already passed… over." He gave a smile at the small joke.

But Greg only gave him a look that said _no, you just didn't. _After he let out a big yawn still lounged out on the bed. "Jimmy, you're a bad Jew."

"What?"

"Hanukkah came and you don't even have a menorah."

"Yes, I do! It's on the shelves over there!" he pointed. Sure enough there was a Menorah that stood at about six inches high. Well, looks like Greg hasn't been paying enough attention.

"Yeah, well… I don't remember it being lit at anytime!" he tossed in trying to defend his pointless argument.

"That's because I didn't light it." He answered truthfully. "It's just not the same, you know? I'm so used to spending Passover with my family that it just feels empty when they're not around to celebrate it with me." He sat down on the foot of the bed.

"You're still a bad Jew." James shook his head. "You eat pork and you're not really tight when it comes to your money." He tossed out the stereotype as if it could help his defense.

"Just because I eat pork and I pay for your food doesn't mean I'm a bad Jew. I'm just not orthodox." He fell back onto the bed next to Greg. "I believe if there's tasty food and I'm not allergic to it I have every right to eat it."

"Good point."

On spending all his time with Greg, James didn't realize how dependant he had become of his roommate. He asked so much of Greg and neither of them even noticed it. Not only was Greg his friend but he seemed to fill every other position that James could feasibly pin on him, and because of this he's chose to have Greg as the only person he spent most of his time with and the only person he chose to keep close as a friend and also his boyfriend.

Without Greg he would be lost and tonight was the first time he'd come to realize how much he depended on that one sarcastic, misanthropic, bastardistic man he called his friend and that he was lucky enough to have him because no one else wanted him.

It was only an amount of time before his dependence would come back to haunt him and it's only when Greg's not around for a while is when he can really feel it.

"What's he like?" James asked out of the blue.

Blue eyes stared at the ceiling. "What's who like?"

"Your dad. You never talk about him. The only thing I know is that he was a US marine."

"I don't want to talk about him." He spoke sternly.

James turned to Greg. "Why not? I've told you a lot about my dad."

"That's because you like your dad." Just because James talked about his father didn't mean he had to as well. Really not wanting to get into the subject of family, he sat up.

"You don't like you father?" his voice was soft and almost disbelieving, like the idea of disliking your father was completely unreal. Needless to say he didn't answer. "What did he do? I mean, there's got to be a reason."

Not wanting to get pushed against the wall with this subject, Greg pulled on a heaping pile of sarcasm. "Normally when someone says they don't want to talk about something; that's the end of that conversation."

But of course, James wasn't listening, "What did he do?" he asked

"He's a grade A asshole."

"Like you?"

"He's nothing like me." He growled.

James should have let it be; he should have kept his mouth shut and not kept on with the subject but in a sense, James' curiosity was just as dangerous as Greg's. "I get it; he's too nice."

With Greg, sarcasm wasn't a two way street when it came to his problems. This was not something someone could just toss off as being nothing. He had his own reasons for how he felt. "No, you idiot! You're too nice! Hell; you're an absolute angel compared to him!" he barked back.

"Then what did he do?" he shot, repeating his earlier question.

He sighed. "He's not a good father. Let's just leave it at that."

"No, this sounds like something you need to talk about."

"I'm fine." He hissed.

"But-"

"Look, I don't talk, Alright!" he cut him off, annoyed. He got off the bed and started to rummage through the cabinets. Damn, he needed a drink.

But James still wasn't backing down. "Hey, if this were me you'd be all over this until I finally spat it out!" he pointed out. But Greg tried to ignore him as he found his salvation in the form of a half drunken bottle of _Jack Daniels_. He grabbed a coffee mug and poured him a glass. "You say he's terrible, but you won't even tell me what he did to justify that! How do I know you're not overreacting?"

Greg furrowed his brows as he turned to James with a harsh glare. "What did you just say?"

"How do I know he was as bad as you say he was when you won't even tell me anything? For all I know you could be blowing it out of proportion."

Greg still held his glare but tried to keep rational. "Okay then, how do you feel about spanking a child?"

"I would say it depends on the kid. If you have a kid that doesn't listen to a word you say, then fine. I was spanked once and that was all it took." He shrugged.

Greg took it in the answer before he moved onto his second question. "Alright, how do you feel about beating a kid?"

"Nooo." He drew out. "No beating."

"Fine. And what's the line between discipline and abuse?"

"He would… hit you?" James gathered from the line of questions being shot his way. Greg didn't answer; only took a swig on his drink. James never liked beating around the bush. He found things were much easier on everyone if it was just spat out. Beating around the bush with this subject, like how Greg was doing now, only reminded him of back then. "So, your father was a military man, how do I know it wasn't just strict discipline to a child who needed it?"

Greg was at a loss. He was so shocked he could hardly speak, but after a hard swallow he quickly found his voice. "You fucking bastard, I can't believe you just said that." He growled darkly. "This is how people like him can get away with the things they've done!" And it seemed that after he found his voice he couldn't hide it back away. "Oh, he's a war hero; he wouldn't beat the _**shit**_ out of his son badly enough to break his arm and a rib because he accidently put a scratch on the car with his bike! No, he must have just fallen off the bike or hit a tree! Oh, you've got it wrong; He's too much of a brilliant man! He'd _never_ spend hours…" He took a breath but it seemed that was all he needed before he started yelling louder. "SPEND FUCKING _HOURS_ TELLING HIS SON HE'S GOING TO AMOUNT TO NOTHING AND IS A DISGRACE BECAUSE HE DOESN'T WANT TO BE IN THE MILITARY LIKE HIS FUCKED UP FATHER!!" he yelled. He didn't care if all their neighbors could probably hear him. "NO, HE'S A GOOD AND WELL ADJUSTED MAN WHO WOULD NEVER DO SUCH TERRIBLE THINGS!!" Normally, Greg wouldn't be divulging such information about his past so readily but he was just too pissed off to care.

James stared with his mouth agape. His was grasping for any understanding he could get a hold of.

After a few deep breaths he was able to take control of himself again, if only for a moment. "I may have been bad at time, hell, I may have rebelled a little more than a kid my age should have, but that did not mean I deserved to be beaten for every little thing I did!" he growled his blue eyes narrowed and his teeth bared. "You feel bad when a murderer goes to jail for killing his daughter's abuser, whom you've never met, but, OH! IF YOU BOYFRIEND DOESN'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT HIS SHITHEAD OF A FATHER BECAUSE HE WAS BEATEN AS A KID, WELL, THEN, HE _MUST _BE LYING ABOUT IT!! OR BETTER YET; THROWING IT OUT OF PROPORTION! "

"Look, I didn't say-"

"BULLSHIT!" He roared, "_He was just a military man with strict disciplinary values! _Your goddamn words!!"

"Yeah! After you mixed them up!!"

"YOU KNOW WHAT?! FUCK IT!! FUCK EVERYTHING!!!" He quickly made his way to the closet and pulled out his neatly hanging coat (of which James had put in there), and pulled it on as well as a hat, which he promptly shoved on his head.

James shot up as well. "Where are you going?!"

"THE HELL OUTTA HERE!" he roared as he snatched up his wallet off the nightstand and rushed to the door.

"What about my parents?" They were supposed to leave tomorrow morning. Greg still hadn't packed. It looked like James was going to be packing for him again.

But just as he grabbed the doorknob he quickly turned around. "Go to your parents by your own fucking self!!" And with that he stormed angrily out of the apartment; slamming the door behind him. Staring dumfounded, James was frozen in place as his brain tried to work out what had just happened.

--

When the clock on the wall read eleven o'clock and Greg had still not returned; James started to worry. Sure he knew Greg was probably pissed and seething and really wanted nothing to do with him at that moment, he still wanted to make sure he was safe.

After thinking it through, he grabbed his coat and gloves and made his way out the door.

--

He knew he shouldn't have been wandering around in the cold snowy night, but he couldn't help it. He needed to find his friend. He had been searching for two hours now but turned up nothing.

He couldn't find Greg anywhere. In an age before cell phones were in everyone's pockets, this was the only way he could hope to find his friend. He pulled his coat tighter around himself as he trudged through the cold snow trying to think of where to search next. He tried everywhere he could think of. He went to _Anastasia's_ and managed to catch some workers and the Maître'D before they had left, he went to _Bon Café_ and woke up poor Mr. Auclair in his apartment over the café, he went to the park, a few local bars and even that dark abandoned theatre, but everywhere he looked Greg was nowhere to be found. He could be anywhere in Baltimore or for all he knew, being that they had another three days off for the Christmas holiday he could have gone anywhere beyond the city.

He shouldn't have said those things. He shouldn't have even brought up Greg's father. But his biggest mistake was letting events from the past sway his judgment. Not everyone was lying about their father's abuse. It turned out he had forgotten that.

All James wanted to do was apologize.


	13. And So the Search was Launched

---

_**CHAPTER TWELVE:**__ And So the Search was Launched_

---

The next morning was a terrible one. Not only did he wake up to an empty bed but woke up with a stopped up nose and sore throat.

_Great, I have a cold._

And as if to reinforce his assumption he was hit with a small coughing fit. It was ironic in a sense. He went searching for Greg but found a cold instead. Despite his sleep he still felt dead tired. He didn't want to get up; he wanted to stay in bed and sleep the day away but he knew couldn't. He had to find his friend.

He could probably say confidently that he knew Greg better than anyone else. He knew Greg was as stubborn as a mule and prided himself that he didn't need people to get along in life. He also knew there was a chance that he would try and go back to his previous solitary lifestyle. He had to find him and apologize while he still had the chance. So, after drinking a small glass of orange juice and a piece of toast he continued his search.

But where to look?

--

Greg was fine.

Last night he had stayed in a cheap discount inn kind of place instead of sleeping in his car. He knew there was one place he had every right to go, but hell, he wasn't going to visit the Drama Queen, even if his life depended on it. He would rather freeze to death in his car than to go crawling back to his ex-roommate. So that morning after a quick shower he was off in search of what he had originally planed to get before he and James' argument.

A guitar.

He pulled up to a place he knew about near the outskirts of the city he knew about. They always had good sales going on ands with the program they had that allowed people to sell their used instruments in-house you never knew what they could have. Upon walking into _Mark and B's Musical Supply_ Greg felt his mood pick up immediately. Music was his passion; there was nothing else like it. A place like this was almost like heaven or better yet, a child in a candy store.

Unfortunately for him, the first things his eyes fell on were the violins. He turned his head quickly and looked away, miffed.

"Fucking idiot." He mumbled under his breath and walked over to the back of the store where the guitars were on display. They had the usual, Finder _Stratocasters_, some Gibson _Les Pauls_, and even a nice Gibson _Explorer_ in the corner but it wasn't any other these that really caught his eye.

While walking and browsing the instruments, his eyes suddenly shot to a certain guitar on display and couldn't pull his eyes away and left his mouth agape. There on display with the price tag of 429.99, with a clear Plexiglas body, gorgeous rosewood pickguard and strong maple neck, was a '69 Dan Armstrong AMPEG. "Gaaaa…" He trailed and let out a breath at the sight of it. "What's wrong with it?" he asked immediately upon seeing the asking price.

The store's clerk with a black faux hawklooked up from his magazine. "Hm?"

"This guitar, what's wrong with it to have it marked down to that price?"

The clerk let out a chuckle and went to his customer. "The guy selling it is insane, that's what!" he laughed. Greg arched a brow before he explained. "For a small display fee we offer a place for people to display their instruments for sale and such. Well, this guy comes in with this beautiful piece and wants to sell it. I'm all for it, it's a beautiful guitar. Damn," got off subject as he turned his attention to the guitar. "It's times like this I wish I wasn't a drummer.. But as I was saying! The guy come in and wants to sell. I explain everything to him and when I ask what he wants to list the price as he tells me he wants to sell it for four hundred plus the display fee."

"That this is worth so much more." Greg added as he stared, practically drooling over the guitar.

Brandon nodded. "That's what I told him! I was like, _You're crazy! You can get triple, if not quadruple that price easy!_ But he was adamant on selling it for $429.99. So I asked him what was wrong, he says nothing and even plays it for me. And fuck if it wasn't absolute!" Greg nodded. "He did give me as much as a history as he could on it to prove that it was in good shape."

Greg wanted to touch it, hold it, play it… he wanted to try it out. And with a look over to Brandon, it was as if he could read his customer's mind.

"Yeah, go ahead." He waved before continuing where he had left off. "Well, the guy tells me that he got it from a guy in the paper who really didn't know the value of the guitar, who got it from another guy for next to nothing being that one of the pickups weren't working right at a garage sale. The guy who bought it from the garage sale got it fixed, and like I said, the guy who got it fixed played it a while but then apparently kinda gave up playing or something, I don't know. But he sold it sold it for pretty much nothing as well being that he really didn't know the value. And when our guy here saw it, bought it up and held onto it a good while and decided he wanted to sell it." The way Brandon spat out the explanation it was easy to get confused, but Greg didn't press the matter.

Handing the instrument as if it were something handed to him from God, Greg carefully pulled the strap over his shoulder. It was a weighty thing; most probably from the Plexiglas body. But it was a comfortable weight, nothing that would get in the way of his playing. "But why for four hundred dollars when he knows he can get so much for it?" he asked perplexed.

Brandon went about and grabbed a small amp and a connection cable and plugged the guitar into the amp. "All I know is that he says he think a real musician deserves this more than him, but went I tell him he can get so much more he won't budge! He says he couldn't in good conscience sell it for 1,500 dollars when he paid practically nothing for it and there were needy musicians who could use it more than him."

"He's a moron." Greg added.

Brandon nodded. "Yep. You know how to play?" he asked, curious as Greg during the conversation had only been holding the guitar and hadn't played a single note.

"Yeah, I can play." Brandon gestured for him to do something.

"Good, because the guy says I need to sell it to someone who can really play. It's… part of the deal." And knowing that was his cue, Greg started working the tuning pegs and trying to get things in tune for something quick and simple. Once finished, he played a quickly little bluesy thing that definitely got the fellow's attention. "That's good enough for me!" he clapped. "So, you lookin' to buy?"

He reveled to himself. "This is a once in a lifetime buy."

"Sure is." Brandon agreed.

Keeping a hold of the guitar and giving two or three strums he smiled. "I don't think I can say no." He struck one note and listened. "Wow, the sustain on this thing is great!"

Brandon nodded. "It's the Plexiglas. It really is good guitar."

"It is."

--

James still wasn't feeling so good. His coughing had gotten a bit worse and all he wanted to do was sleep. He hated colds. He really shouldn't have been wandering around in the snow last night but he knew he couldn't just sit there and do nothing. He had called his mother and told her that he was going to stay home another day and if he felt better tomorrow he'd head on out there to see them.

Wishing her son the best of luck, good wishes, and love, she ordered him to sleep and drink lots of fluids. If she would have known that he was calling her from a payphone on the streets she would have scolded him for not being in bed.

Once they said their goodbyes, he hung up the phone and shoved more coins into the slot to make another call. After retracing his steps from last night and turning up empty again, an idea came to mind. If he knew Greg, he knew the man would be trying to get on and pretending that nothing was wrong as he went about his life normally like nothing was wrong. So for his next step he'd check out the music stores.

He called information and got a list of the local music stores and continued his search.

--

The walk from _Mark and B's Musical Supply_ was tiring from carrying the amp. It may be small, but it was sure heavy. But to Greg it was all worth it. Now he could get straight down to business and start playing. He walked into his motel room and hardly had time to toss his coat on the bed before he began to set everything up.

He opened the case and took a good long look at his new guitar before he pulled it out. It really was a gorgeous thing. He grabbed the audio cable and plugged it into the amp before he placed it on the bed and started to look around.

Now, where were those headphones?

--

James quickly pulled a tissue from his pocket and he'd it over his mouth as he was hit with another fit of coughing. God, this was getting annoying. He hating being sick. All he wanted to lie down and not get up. When his coughing fit finally finished he shoved the soiled tissue into his pocket and walked into Music Shop #3 on his list.

After a quick glance around at the instruments the place had to offer, James noticed a man leaning against a sale counter as he read a magazine. By his appearance the clerk looked to be in the right line of business; the hoodie and faux hawk screamed it. "Excuse me; can you help me with something?"

The sales clerk looked up from his magazine and pushed his glasses back up his nose.

"I'm looking for someone. He may have stopped here, I… really don't know."

He stood from leaning against the counter and tried to offer his assistance. "I can try the best I can, what's his name?"

"Greg House?"

Brandon shook his head. "Not ringing any bells. What does he look like?"

"Well, he's tall, taller than me… he has dark brown hair. He's… kinda rude."

He nodded, "Can he play something? Or was he looking for supplies or things that could help teach him how to play?"

"No, he's a great musician. Actually he was looking for a guitar." Right after the words left his mouth the clerk knew who he was talking about.

"Oh! The lucky Fellow!" he chirped excitedly.

"Lucky?"

"For a guitarist he couldn't have walked in at a better time, we had a gorgeous Dan Armstrong AMPEG at a steal of a price. He fell in love right when he saw it. Snatched it up quick! He knew a deal when he saw one! What about you? You play anything?"

James was so relieved to hear that Greg had been there. It meant that he was still hiding out in Baltimore. Where, though, that was another story. Realizing he was asked a question, he quickly came back to reality. "Oh, yeah, I play the violin. It's been years since I've played it, though."

"Heh, classy." He chuckled. "Why'd you stop?"

This fellow was certainly a chatty one and talked faster than expected and jumped from subject to subject. He was inquisitive, too. "I just kind of fell out of it, but now when I play I just think of an old friend of mine I lost."

"Oh, sorry to hear that." He apologized.

It was then James noticed the blue nametag. "Brandon… Are you the B of_ Mark and B's_?"

"That I am! Brandon Martinez at your service!" he introduced himself while taking a bow.

"Well, Brandon, thank you so much for your help, Oh, and he didn't happen to mention where he was headed, huh?"

Brandon thought a moment trying to review everything in his mind. Things said, things bought… "Well," he drew out slowly, "He bought a guitar and an amp, audio cables and such… headphones. He joked about neighbors and thin walls." He offered. But that didn't do him too good. That could have been their apartment for all he knew. "Oh! He did come here without a car! I remember thinking how peculiar it was that he would be walking down the street carrying an amp and a guitar. So, either he has no fear and great endurance or he's staying somewhere close."

But before he could thank Brandon again, he let out a loud and hard sneeze. Instinctively a hand went over his mouth and nose while the other dug in his coat pocket for an unsoiled tissue only to come up empty. "Damn, I'm out." He couldn't pull his hand away; he could feel his hand and face were a disaster. Without missing a beat, Brandon leaned back and grabbed the tissue box out from behind the counter and held out to him. "Thanks." He took some and cleaned himself up.

"You don't look so good." He noted.

James sighed and tossed his dirtied tissues into the nearby trashcan. "I've got a cold." He felt so much worse than when he woke up that morning. He was so tired he knew if he sat down to take a rest he'd probably fall asleep, his nose was constantly running, his coughing was aggravating his already sore throat and his head was starting to hurt. He just wished he could find Greg so he could get some much needed rest.

"You really shouldn't be wandering around in the cold, then." Brandon suggested kindly.

James knew this, every aching bone in his body told him this. "I know, but I really have to find my friend. Hey, if he swings by again, you think you can let him know I'm looking for him?"

"Of course."

"Thank you so much, you have no idea how much that means to me."

"It's no problem." He said modestly.

--

James was starting to feel like a detective or a bounty hunter or just anyone who would look for someone by following clues. It had been an hour since he had gotten his helpful advice from Brandon at the music shop and he had gone straight to work at hitting all the hotels, motels, and inns in the area and asking if Greg House was in.

Five places later and still no luck.

All this searching was starting to tug at his heart in a different way, too. It kept reminding him about earlier in the year when he went searching for David. He had searched for two weeks with no luck. He hoped this wouldn't turn out the same. As tired as ever, James trudge and nearly dragged himself into the small lobby of Motel #6 on his list before he looked over at the check-in counter.

"May I help you?" a deep voice asked. Sheepishly, he approached the counter where a very, very tall man stood behind a Plexiglas window with a small speaker. James was almost certain he had never seen someone so tall, especially up close. The man must have been over seven feet tall; there was no way he was anything less. James thought that he should be playing basketball with that height.

"uhh, yes… I'm looking for Greg House, is he in?"

He watched as the man bent down a little to read a book sitting on the counter next to him filled with organized scribbles "Yes, he's in."

Those words made his heart flutter. Finally he found Greg! It only took from last night to dusk of the next day but he still found him. "Oh, I'm sorry to have to ask, but he forgot to tell me which room he was in.." he trailed off.

The man leaned over again and took another look at the scribbles. "He's in room 5, down that way." With his long arm, he pointed passed his protective window and to the right of the building.

"Thanks!"

James wasted no time. He walked as fast as his tired aching legs would take him. And sure enough, parked outside room five was Greg's beat up, blue Ford Taurus. Taking a deep breath, James knocked on the door.

Nothing.

He knocked again a little harder.

Still nothing.

This time he knocked hard enough to make his knuckles hurt but it did the trick. "Yeah?" he heard a voice through the door call. It was him. But what was he supposed to say? Would Greg even open the door knowing it was him? Should he lie and say he was room service? No, that would give him the chance to dismiss him completely. And wouldn't he only be messing things up farther if he lied?

"Please, let me in." he pleaded.

A moment or two passed without so much as a peep or a sound with James thinking he had been ignored. But just as soon as he lifted his hand to knock again the deadbolt unlock. Next thing he knew familiar but annoyed blue eyed greeted him. "What are you doing here?" he asked standoffishly.

"Looking for you." He covered his mouth as he let out a small cough or two.

Greg narrowed his eyes suspiciously, "How did you find me? Do you have a bug or tracker on me?"

"Hard and exhausting work." He answered tiredly. "Can I come inside? It's cold out here." Feeling generous, he let James in but right when the door closed, Greg didn't even have the time to turn around before James gave in. "I'm sorry!" he spat abruptly, "I'm sorry about everything! I shouldn't have said that, it was wrong and stupid! I wasn't thinking right! It was heartless of me to say those things to you! I'm sorry, I just-"

"Whoa! Calm down!" Greg said holding up his hands. James was just spitting all of it out so quickly he could hardly understand him. "Whatever, it's fine." When someone apologized to him he always tried to act like it was no big deal, like the humility the other person was showing was fine but not necessary. But it was. Greg never would have let James get close to within an arms length of his already hidden away heart without one.

"It's not fine," he corrected. "You shouldn't forgive me so easily for that."

"I never said you were forgiven." Greg stated as a matter of fact.

James didn't deny the pain he felt at the comment. "Ouch… I deserved that." he took a deep breath as he started to explain himself. "It's just… " He paused as he rubbed his forehead and tried to think of how to get it all out. "When I was about fourteen I had this friend. I had known him for years and one day he came to school with a black eye. I asked him what had happened but he obviously didn't want to talk about it." He paused again with Greg starting to show a keen interest. "I pestered him and pestered him but he kept beating around the bush about where he had gotten it. It was only after a little more he finally told me that it was his father."

He rested his forehead against his palms and took in a breath before he continued on with his story.

"After he told me I couldn't get it out of my mind. His father was the nicest guy ever, he didn't come across as the kind of guy he could even hurt a fly. It kept wearing on me and wearing on me until I finally told a counselor at my school. Next thing I know, I hear his father is in jail for child abuse." There was a long pause, but Greg didn't push. Just reading the body language he could tell what was next to come in the story was a painful one. "It was really a case of being at the wrong place at the wrong time." He said weakly, "He really didn't have any family, so my friend was taken into foster care while his father was in jail. The way people treat you if your suspected of such a crime is horrible. People before who loved his father were so unsure, no one believed in him. Even when it hit trial my friend held to what he told me; that his father beat him several occasions, and I could remember days when he would come to school with a new bruise or whatever. But one day while being escorted to court his father was killed by some random person taking justice into their own hands."

Greg listened stunned. Obviously James felt guilty for saying something. If he had kept quiet the man would be alive… but he deserved it, didn't he? "If the guy beat his son, he deserved-"

"He didn't deserve it!!" James cried out, his voice breaking with emotion. "He lied! He lied about his father because he was getting mixed up with things he knew he shouldn't have. He told everyone made up elaborate stories about how his father would beat him! He told the police, he told the lawyer, he told me, he told everyone but he was lying the whole time! His father was too kind and sweet to even hurt a fly! All that time and he didn't say a thing."

His sore throat was starting to get aggravated from his story and he could feel a coughing fit trying to come on but tried to hold it back the best he could.

"I know it sounds stupid but I think my brain just defaulted onto that when you told me about you and your father." But he couldn't hold back any longer. With a quick deep breath James started coughing.

Greg nodded to himself as he tried to think about it. It made sense. "It's not stupid," he corrected. "You virtually killed an… innocent man because you told your school counselor what your friend told you. You didn't want to do it again." He watched as James finally was able to breathe again as his fit came to a stop. "What's up with you?" he eyed him head to toe making sure to take in James' tired and worn-down appearance.

He rubbed his nose with a clean tissue. "I caught a cold playing in the snow too late last night." He answered sarcastically.

"Foolish." Greg responded just as sarcastic.

The two were quiet for a little bit before James noticed the guitar sitting on the bed. "So, that's the guitar? You got such a great deal on?"

Greg brightened up right away. "Yeah, this guy was - wait, I didn't.. tell you that, yet." Confused blue eyes waited for an answer. "You sure you didn't put a bug on me?"

"I talked to Brandon Martinez at _Mark and B's Musical Supply_. He told me about it."

Greg nodded as he stood up and grabbed the guitar. "You wanna hear me play?"

"Sure." James stood up and pulled his aching body to lie down on the bed but before he could get there Greg swung his guitar around to his back and hooked a hand around James' waist. The next thing he knew he was face to face with a relaxed blue eyes and a lazy smile but when he leaned in for a kiss from his lover. It seemed like James had other plans.

"Don't." He warned as he pulled back. "I'm sick, you'll catch my cold."

But that wasn't going to stop the ever persistent Gregory House. "So? It gives me an actual reason to miss a day or two of school."

"No!" He tried to weasel out of Greg's grasp but enviably after seeing how badly James didn't want to give him a cold, he gave in and settled for placing a kiss on that brown hair. Once free, He immediately collapsed onto the bed. Finally he'd be able to relax and die for a time all the while with the musical magics of Greg on guitar serving as atmosphere.

Greg played everything he had wanted to play for a long while but couldn't get his hands on a guitar to do it. The two chatted about different pieces until after about an hour or so, he noticed something strange about his tired friend. If it got quiet for more than a ten seconds James would close his eyes and knock out and to make matters worse, each time he said something or hit a remotely loud note and James would snap back awake with a bewildered look on his face before trying his best to act like he didn't fall asleep.

Curious, he tried an experiment. He waited until he saw James' eye shut close. "Hey, Jimmy, can I get a tiger and feed it hobos?"

"Huh? Yeah, yeah. Sounds good." Brown eyes blinked rapidly to try and wake himself up.

"Interesting.." he said quietly. Greg wondered how many times he asked if he had liked what he played of James really liked it or if he was trying to mask his exhaustion. He quietly slipped off his guitar and placed it carefully in its case he walked over and sat down on the bed with James picking up his head in surprise.

"Wha?" he picked his head off the pillow. "Why'd you stop playing?"

"Because you're not listening." He pointed out as he stretched out and laid back next to James on the bed but something wasn't right. Something was too… hot?

"Damn, you feel like a heater! I don't even have to touch you to know you're burning up." Greg yelped surprised with James waking up again. He got up off the bed. "You try and stay awake. I'm going to see if I can find a thermometer in this joint." Greg knew there was nothing of the sort in the room itself but maybe the front desk would have something like that.

Leaving the room, he walked up the walkway in the snow and into the small lobby. There sat the same very tall man who had been there for what seemed like all day.

Just like true Greg fashion, he added his own swing to a simple question. "Hey, you got a thermometer? I think my friend's insides might be frying." He received a suspicious look from the tall fellow for the remark and waited as, without a word, he stood and left the small Plexiglas box to see what he could find. Greg didn't wait long before he returned with a small glass thermometer and slipped it through the small opening in the Plexiglas for money and keys to be passed through. Greg took the thermometer with a smile. "Thanks."

--

When he returned he found James asleep on the bed. "Hey, Jimmy, wake up! It's temperature time!" He jerked awake and watched with tired squinted eyes as Greg went into the bathroom to clean the thermometer. James didn't know what was wrong with him. He was tired, yes, but he just couldn't keep his eyes open and his head was pounding.

When Greg came back into the room he gave the cleaned thermometer a hard shake or two. "Okay, you're a doctor in training, I'm sure you know how this works. Open up." He shoved the thermometer into James' mouth and under his tongue.

"Just get me some Tylenol, I'll be fine."

"Hey," Greg wasn't in the least persuaded, "no talking until we figure out how hot you are!"

"I'm really hot." He responded teasingly; almost deliriously.

"Super hot. Now, no talking." Greg watched the red dye climbed higher and higher up the magnified chart for a tense five minutes but when he took the thermometer from James' mouth he was surprised when he saw it just a hair's width from reaching a hefty 106 degrees. "God, no wonder your head hurts, Jimmy, your brain is melting." He said as he put the thermometer down on the nightstand. Almost immediately he started to take James' jacket off. "Come on, you need to get all your extra clothes off."

This was no cold; this was something else. James needed to get to the hospital. After he ran the symptoms through his head a few times he looked over to the very exhausted James and gave a suspicious glare. "You didn't get a flu shot this year, did you?" he pulled James' scarf off before working on his gloves.

"Flu… hot?" he asked, tired and confused.

This was worrying. "No, Flu _shhhhhoooot!_" he drew out slowly to clarify, "Flu shot, the thing that helps prevent you from getting the flu. You didn't get one, did you?" But he didn't answer, only let out a painful little moan and tried to bury his head in the covers. "Come on, you need to go to the hospital."

But James didn't even attempt to get up.

"Hey, either you get up and try to walk with me or I'm going to have to carry you! You are not about to lie on this bed and let your brain fry!" he told his sick friend as he forcefully tried to get him to sit up. When James got the idea of what he was trying to do he sat up but swayed slightly. Greg held tight to his shoulder to stable him. "Okay, I need you to stand up, alright?" James stood, shakily and slowly with Greg reached out and took James' arm and wrapped it around his shoulder to support him.

He could feel James' whole body trembling from his fatigue and weakness. He was also almost certain that the man hadn't eaten anything. When he asked he only got a quiet, "wasn't hungry." in return.

"You idiot, you need to eat when you're sick, even if you don't feel like it." Even though Greg tried to hide it, the worry in his voice was evident. His steps were labored and shaky and even thought he was tempted to give James his coat to wear he knew better. It may be cold and snowy outside and James may be dressed in a t-shirt but the cold would do him good.

It was a little frightening at how hot James was. Greg could feel the heat radiating through James' t-shirt as well Greg's button up shirt, and t-shirt. It was alarming and only told him how urgent it was that he get James to the hospital. As they made their way out the motel room and to the car, it was starting to become obvious that a mild delirium was starting to set in when James spotted the snow on the ground. "Ooh, snow..! Can I have some?" his words were more slurred and tired than when they had been in the motel room.

"Dammit, Jimmy! Shut the hell up and stop reminding me that your brain is on fire! Okay?!" he didn't mean to snap at him but the more he talked or did anything that require his brain the more it reminded him of how dire the situation could turn. And in vague attempt to make up for it he handed James a handful of snow.

For once Greg's driving was welcomed. Normally, if James had a choice, he'd be the one driving. He thought Greg drove way to fast and recklessly and the drive to the hospital was just as fast and reckless as ever. And beside, James wasn't in any shape for driving. Greg's speedy driving got them to the hospital in no time and luckily with speeding tickets to show for it.

When they walked into the ER waiting room the first thing to do was answer a whole bunch of personal questions. Name, phone number, date of birth, SSN… nearly anything they could ask; they did. "You gonna to ask whether he's left or right handed?" Greg had muttered to himself under his breath, irritated. James had trouble trying to get his brain to focus on the various questions dealing with numbers but manned to pull through.

After that task was taken care of and the nurse handed James a pamphlet and tried to explain it to him. But before she really got into it, it dawned on his what it was. "Oh, this is the doctor/patient confidentiality thing?" he sounded half-baked; you wouldn't have expected this man to be a top freshman in a school of medicine. Once he was refreshed on the subject he was handed a form to sign and was sent back to take a seat and wait for his name to be called.

While they waited, James stared with something else that got Greg's attention. "Jimmy, what are you looking at?" He asked as he noticed James watching a blank spot near the ceiling on the wall.

He kept staring, "You don't see it?"

"See what?"

"It's right there… " he pointed. Sure enough when he looked a little closer there was a small spider clinging to the wall. Greg was relieved to know that James wasn't hallucinating but it didn't put him too much at ease. He could hear his words were slurring a little more than before. Sure, it could have been from his exhaustion but he didn't want to leave it to chance. This was too much. What was the hold up? The man had a 106 degree fever for crying out loud?!

"Fuck!" Greg cursed under his breath before he shot up from his chair. "Wait right here." And with that he left the ER for outside. The people in the ER were taking too long for his liking; he knew he'd have to do something if he didn't want his friends brain poached before morning. Once out in the coldness of the night he pulled off his jacket and button down shirt and t-shirt. To anyone passing by it would have been a strange sight to see the man kneeling in the snow and down to just his pants but he had his reasons. Quickly, he started to scoop up snow and drop it on the middle of his t-shirt using it as a big ice pack before slipping his button up shirt back on and jacket. When he felt he had enough snow he quickly rushed back inside.

The sight of James still looking at the spot on the wall was just as unnerving as it had been a moment before and without warning, placed his snow filled shirt on the sick man's head. "Cold." James let out quietly.

"Keep this on your head; you're no use to me brain dead." Greg ordered. Doing as he was told, James held onto the shirt as he kept it on his head. Alarm bells should have been ringing in James' head when he saw Greg take off near the nurse's station but his head hurt too much to think straight much less have the bells manned. "Hey! HEY!!" Greg bellowed in that loud and booming voice of his. "WHAT DOES A GUY HAVE TO DO TO GET SOME MEDICAL ASSISTANCE HERE?!"

"And what's wrong with you, sir?" an unimpressed nurse asked from behind a counter.

"Not me!! I have a man over there with a fever that's melting his brain and no one seems to care!!"

But this behavior was nothing new to the staff; people were likely to act the same when they brought patients in with 100 degree fevers. "Sir, it takes a fever of 107 degrees before brain damage starts to take effect."

"DON'T YOU THINK I FUCKING KNOW THAT?!" He roared.

"Sir, calm down-"

"I'M A FUCKING SENIOR IN MED SCHOOL, YOU MORON! HIS FEVER IS ONE HUNDRED AND GODDAMN, MOTHER FUCKING SIX!!" In the ER waiting room, he had nearly everyone's attention: patients, nurses and doctors alike. Greg was definitely fierce. With his narrowed eyes and bared teeth someone could easily imagine him as a wolf or a lion with his ear back and hackles raised in aggression.

But it seemed to do the trick. Next thing he knew a triage nurse was escorting the weary James and his makeshift snow-icebag of a shirt into the ER.

If Greg was annoyed before it only got worse with the triage nurse. He sat in a chair at a table littered with medical things as he asked James questions on when he started to feel ill, what were his symptoms, if he took any medication to help, if he were allergic to anything; the list went on. But what annoyed Greg was with questions that James really had to think about and took a little more time on giving the answer, the triage nurse would shake his head as if saying James was an idiot because he was having trouble answering questions he should know.

He had to hold back from hurting the arrogant man in the light blue scrubs. He was the only one who could call James an idiot! He was the only one who could even _think_ James an idiot! He wasn't about to let this asshole make his buddy feel bad. But James wasn't paying enough attention to the nurse to even feel bad about it. The nurse walked over to a cabinet and handed James a small cup filled with two Tylenol tablet and a small paper cup of water and told him to take it while he slipped on the medical bracelet around his wrist.

--

After two hours, a saline drip, some painkillers for his sore body and aching head, mixed with an actual ice pack and James temperature was starting to go down. Though it only dropped to 102 he was given the okay to leave and was advised to drink lots of fluids, rest, and some Tylenol or ibuprofen for his sore body and help lower his fever.

It was amusing to see James on the painkillers because they made him a little loopy. After a few CCs of Toradol was administered through his IV, the balding doctor came to check up on his patient. "So, James, How's your pain?"

"Pain..?" he looked vaguely confused before he remembered what pain was. "Oh, pain! No, I'm good. No pain here." The Toradol may have made him a little loopy, but it did its job just fine.

The okay to leave was a relief to James. Hospitals were fine and good to work in but he didn't want to be the one lying on the table. Also, now that he didn't have that headache and his bones and back weren't aching he was able to walk okay on his own but that in no way meant he didn't have that hawk like stare on him from Greg.

After being discharged and back in the car, James fell asleep on the way back to the motel and stayed asleep as Greg packed his things into the car. He didn't have the heart to wake him up. Sure, James had been the one who pushed himself to exhaustion searching the city for him, which is why the flu was able to kick his ass so thoroughly, but it was an amazing feeling to know that James had pushed his own health out the way to find him.

As he drove them back to the studio apartment Greg let out a soft chuckle thinking about his friend. "Jimmy, you're an idiot."


	14. Wait, It's Christmas Eve?

---

_**CHAPTER THIRTEEN:**__ Wait… It's Christmas Eve? _

---

Greg was first to wake up the next morning. He didn't like that he woke up sweaty that morning from James feverish self pressed to him in combination with clothes and sheets, but he knew that was just something he'd have to deal with. What was he supposed to do? Banish his friend to his side of the bed?

_Yeah right._

Greg let out a long sleepy yawn and stretched with neither of his actions even coming close to bringing James to the world of the living. James normally slept pretty hard when in full health but with him being zapped of energy from his illness and it should be impossible to wake him up. It looked like his sleeping friend was still using him as a pillow as well.

Sleepy blue eyes glanced down at James sleeping form. He may be under the weather and he may look a little more worn than normal but he was still cute. Even with his snoring from his sinus congestion! Absently, Greg ran a hand through the soft brown hair before trying to sit up but he suddenly could feel something was out of the norm.

When the coolness of the room met with his exposed shirt it felt damp. He reached out and touched his chest and sure enough; it was. What in the world…? Oh, James _was_ using his chest as a pillow. "Ughhh, you drooled on me.." he got out as he felt the wet spot finding the affected area larger than he originally thought, "Urghhhh! You drooled all over me!" there was no harshness in his words just humor and mild annoyance. "You've made my shirt a weapon of biological warfare against old people and babies!"

There wasn't even a change in James breathing or his mode of sleep in at the accusation. He gave a halfhearted glare at the man who was now using his belly as a pillow.

"You're lucky I have a soft spot for you.. and that you're cute. Otherwise I _would_ banish you to your side of the bed." He warned, but again, he didn't show any sighs of waking up. "Jimmy, you make for a very poor conversationalist when you're asleep. At least I'll talk to someone; it might not all be nice cause I'm trying to sleep, but I let you know I'm listening."

Greg managed to slip out from James' hold and went about taking a shower and changing into a clean pair of clothes. The last thing he wanted to do was wear a spit drenched t-shirt all day that had the potential of passing around the flu. That would be fun for a sick sense of humor with a mass amount of people getting sick with the flu during Christmas cause of a spitty t-shirt. It reminded him of the Spanish conquistadors that gave the Native Americans the blankets infected with small pox virus.

Hungry and with no intentions of waking James up, Greg pulled out a small pan and some eggs to cook up some scrambled eggs and made sure to save some for when James finally did wake up but until that time came he stretched out on the couch and turned on the TV as he ate breakfast. The only thing annoying about TV during Christmas time was that nearly everything on was Christmas oriented.

Christmas really made his sick sometimes.

He also wondered if the annual _A Christmas Story_ marathon started yet.

--

An hour later, Greg had managed to find the least Christmas and still entertaining thing the TV had to offer, which came in the form of some forensics show where a whole family was slaughtered during Christmas. Gruesome, yes, but it was something to watch.

But it the groan from the bed quickly got his attention. "Afternoon!" Greg answered cheerfully as he picked up a small box from the coffee table and turned around to where he was looking towards the bed. James watched tiredly as he began to toss the small box in the air a few times before Greg looked back to him. "Here," he tossed the box to the bed with it nearly clocking James in the head and landing on the other pillow. "You may be sick… and you may be Jewish, but I guess it's still Christmas. I got that for you a few days ago. It's no Red Ryder BB gun, but it's good."

"Yeah, because we all know there's nothing I love more than wandering around shooting things with a BB gun." He groaned playfully as he sat up and grabbed the box. "I hadn't gotten anything for you, yet.."

"Yeah, well, you get a free pass until your better but as soon as you can get out of bed and go to a store I'd better get a gift."

James let out a laugh at Greg's demand, "Deal." With as much excitement as he could muster from just waking up and being sick, he pulled off the makeshift wrapping paper made out of aluminum foil and unwrapped a simple black box. He looked up at Greg who gestured for him to open it. Half expecting to be surprised by something jumping out of the box at him he cautiously opened it. But to his surprise no snakes jumped out nor were there any tarantulas hiding in the darkness. Instead what greeted him was a striking _Bulova_ watch with a light blue face and silver toned stainless steel band.

"It's beautiful." He smiled as he took it out the box.

"Yeah, I knew you needed a new watch and that you liked blue.."

"It's the same color as your eyes." He noted with those sweet brown eyes of his gazing affectionately at him from across the room.

Greg laughed as he gave a smile laced with a hint of embarrassment and rolled his eyes. "So _that's_ why you like that color so much."

"You have beautiful eyes." Greg turned his face away with a smile showing his grinning white teeth. James couldn't believe it, Greg House was actually embarrassed. "You're not used to compliments, are you?"

"Let's just say my disposition towards others usually prevents people from telling me nice things about me." He shrugged and watched as James slipped the watch onto his wrist.

It was a stunningly handsome watch. "Maybe you'd be nicer if people took the time to tell you how brilliant you are."

Greg let out another bark of laughter, "Oh, I doubt that!" This was starting to be too much. He wasn't meant to get such compliments. Yes, he was brilliant and everyone in the world was supposed to know it, but they weren't supposed to point it out with that loving tone that James just used.

"How much was it?"

Thank God he changed the subject. "Jimmy! Asking the price of a gift is rude! Never look a gift horse in the mouth, please!" Greg let out in mock exasperation.

Seeing his mistake, James laughed and laid back down. "So, you're not going to just let me fend for myself? Let me deal with my sickness by myself?"

"Hey, I brought you to the hospital last night, practically drug you up to the apartment and in bed, and I even slept in the same bed and let you lay all up on me. Saying I'm not going to take care of you would be useless. I am going to be a doctor after all… It'll be good practice, I guess." He said grudgingly.

"Thanks."

"Yeah, well. You owe me." Greg quickly informed. "You want some juice or anything? Food? I think there's still some Chinese in the fridge and I saved you some scrambled eggs from earlier.."

"I want a massage. It feels like every muscle in my body is sore." He complained as he tried to find a more comfortable position to sleep.

"Err, I'm not too sure I can really help with that." He didn't know the first thing about how to massage anyone. Well… in the non-sexual way, that is.

"Please? Just my lower back… it's killing me." James begged as he tried to rub the sore spot himself but to no use.

"I can play the piano, but massage.." he trailed off with a shrug.

"Oh, come on, please? You can press a bat handle back there if you're worried about getting sick and it would probably feel pretty good. You can't go wrong." James tried his best to persuade his stubborn friend.

But it didn't look like Greg was ready to give in that easily. "If I were going to get sick it would be from this morning. Hello! I slept in the same bed as you last night! You got all your infection germs on me already, believe me." He didn't miss the small amused apology from the bed but added, nonetheless. "Beside, you just want me to put my hands all over you."

"And where's the harm in that? You should be flattered. And if I remember correctly it didn't seem to be so much of a crime the other night." James recalled slyly with a wink.

He quickly agreed, "Yeah, well… I like to touch."

"Well, then! How about you put that love to some good use and touch all over my lower back?"

"Touch and massage are two different things." Greg noted with a smug grin. Oh, he knew how crazy this was driving his boyfriend.

But James was desperate for any relief; he was even willing to bargain. "I promise I won't bug you for food later."

"Damn, you're bartering food for a back massage?" James just watched him with sad but hopeful puppy dog eyes. With a final sigh, Greg stood from his spot on the couch and made his way to the bed. "Why not just take some Tylenol?"

"This would be better."

"Man, you're being bossy."

"No, if I were being bossy I would be telling you to rub my back, not begging you pathetically."

"Heh, yeah." Greg now sitting back next to his friend pulled back the covers with James rolling onto his belly. Pushing the shirt off James' back he started to work on kneading his fingers into the sore muscle. "Don't worry about not eating; I'll get you food when you're hungry. I'm not going to starve you for a back massage."

"Thanks." He moaned into his pillow as Greg continued to work whatever skill he had into his hands to James' sore back. One could tell after a moment or two that Greg wasn't paying his full attention to his task as he reached over and started to read a newspaper that had been sitting on the nightstand, but that was all fine to James. The little that Greg was doing was enough for him.

It was after about fifteen minutes of massage when Greg finally stopped with his hand tired of the repetitive action. He thought James had fallen asleep, but it turned out that James had another task for him.

"Play something for me." He asked breaking the silence.

"Hm?" Greg looked up from the paper.

"your guitar, play something for me."

"Okay, what?"

James shrugged. "I don't know.."

Greg let out a laugh as he gave a stretch. "You want me to play something, but what, you don't know?"

He shrugged again with an apologetic smile, "Play something you can sing."

"Sing?" He wanted him to sing now? "Sing what?"

"Something nice." Apparently that was all he was going to get as a request.

"You just want me to serenade you!" Greg joked as he stood from the bed and made his way over to where the guitar was sitting with the amp in the corner of the room. "No, I don't want to sing."

"Why not?"

"I don't sing."

"Yes, you do!" James quickly corrected, "I may have been in and out of it last night, but you were singing."

Greg pulled on a slightly annoyed expression as he switched on the amp. "I can't sing." He said more to himself.

But that didn't stop James from answering. "I'll be the judge of that, now play! Play anything you want."

"Just as long as I sing." He pointed out.

"Yep." Knowing that there was no way he was going to get James to shut up on the matter unless he did as he asked, Greg gave in. After a few moment of fiddling around with the tuning pegs and thinking he came up with a simple but familiar song to perform.

To James the tune he started playing out on the guitar was familiar but he couldn't quite place it at first. But right when Greg started to actually sing and add the words it dawned on him what was being played. It was Crowded House's _Don't Dream It's Over_.

"_There is freedom within, there is freedom without, try to catch the deluge in a paper cup. There's a battle ahead, many battles are lost, but you'll never see the end of the road while you're travelling with me._" Singing; Greg glanced up to get a look at how his audience was coping and didn't miss the small smile playing on James' lips.

He smiled back.

"_Hey now, hey now, don't dream it's over. Hey now, hey now, When the world comes in. They come, they come, To build a wall between us. We know they won't win._"

James didn't know what Greg was talking about; he sang the best out of anyone he knew personally. Hell, he sang way better than himself (not that he prided himself on being a good singer)! His guitar playing was great, too. He was glad he could stay awake and enjoy it this time.

Greg was surprise he could remember the song so well. It had been a while since he last heard it but it seemed he could remember it enough to play it. "_Now I'm towing my car, there's a hole in the roof, my possessions are causing me suspicion but there's no proof. In the paper today tales of war and of waste, but you turn right over to the TV page. Hey now, hey now, don't dream it's over. Hey now, hey now, when the world comes in. They come, they come, to build a wall between us. We know they won't win."_

Music breaks were always good fun, here Greg followed the original solo well enough, but to have even more fun he added some stuff here and there.

"_Now I'm walking again to the beat of a drum, and I'm counting the steps to the door of your heart. Only shadows ahead barely clearing the roof, get to know the feeling of liberation and relief._"

It looked like Greg had taken his earlier statement into consideration. Though this was the song that would quickly shoot into someone's mind when thinking serenade, it was touching. He didn't know how many steps Greg could possibly count before he found himself at the door of his heart, he was already there.

But it turned out that Greg thought his earlier remark on familiarity too soon. Right after a few wrongly hit notes, he quickly pushed through it and ran to the ending chorus.

"_Hey now, hey now, don't dream it's over. Hey now, hey now, When the world comes in. They come, they come, To build a wall between us. Don't ever let them win_." He played out the song before looking up at James as if he were looking or waiting for something.

If James wasn't so tired, he'd say he was looking for reassurance. "Now, tell me. Why do you think you can't sing?" he asked as he gave his musical friend a skeptical look.

Greg shrugged as he went about putting the guitar down on the couch. "Someone told me so a while back." James couldn't help the dumbfounded look on his face as he stared as Greg rolled up the audio cable.

"You.. _actually_ listened to someone else and took their opinion into consideration? Wow! That's astonishing."

"Hey, shut up." Greg moved the guitar and amp to the far corner of the room.

"Of all things _that's_ what you listen to? The idiot who told you that was probably a jealous fool." He shook his head in disbelief. "You can sing; don't doubt that."

Greg shrugged again as he made his way back to the bed and stretched out but it seemed that James wasn't finished with his complements just yet.

Smiling softly James rolled over on his back and looked up to Greg. "You're amazing when it comes to music. You can play pretty much anything, can't you?"

"I assure you, there are some I have no right picking up." He tossed in nonchalantly.

James continued. "But what I've heard... it's wonderful. It's good you didn't go into the military like your father wanted. You wouldn't be the same." He let out a sigh and shook his head. "You out there fighting, it would have drained you, or it would have changed you in a worse way and made you forget about your gift... You wouldn't be who you are now if you had gone." he reached up and gently brushed a hand against Greg's cheek with him smiling as James' voice dropped to almost a whisper. "I'm glad you didn't go into the military. It would have.. ruined you. You may have turned out like him."

"I'm glad someone else finally sees that." he answered just as soft. The two settled back into the silence with James lying back down and trying and get back to sleep, but it was no use.

"I'm so tired but I can't sleep… " he whined. "You think you can do me a favor?"

"Well, depends on the favor."

He glanced down at his friend who didn't bother to even open his eyes as he talked back."Can you rub by back or head or something?"

"I already massaged your back! What more do you want from me?!"

"I'm tired! Scratching my head is like.. one of those soothing spots. I'll help me fall asleep." He defended, still not bothering to look back at Greg.

"God, Jimmy! You are such a pain in my ass!" He cried but reached out and started running his hand through that soft brown hair anyway like he had done earlier that morning. James knew better not to take offense to the declaration. He knew it was just Greg's way of throwing the attention off himself; he couldn't let him or anyone else know he might take some enjoyment from caring for his sick friend.

The last thing James could remember before he slipped back into dreamland were those long fingers scratching and massaging his scalp.

--

It was a few hours later he woke up to a pleasant smell filling the room as well as the sound of something scraping against a pot. He must have been dreaming, because when he looked up there was Greg at the stove with the ten inch skillet cooking.

"Dinner?" James asked curiously as he watched from his position stretched out on the bed.

"Yep."

The smell was starting to make his stomach remember that he didn't eat anything that day. "What is it?"

"_Rice-a-Roni_, the cheese and broccoli stuff, and chocolate chip cookies."

Okay, so he wasn't dreaming. "Dinner is _Rice-a-Roni_ and cookies." He mulled the idea around in his head before he sat up. "Really? The one time you cook and you make that?"

"What's wrong with it?" he asked baffled as he took care in pouring the measured amount of water into the skillet.

James knew he had no right to complain, this was Greg we were talking about. It wasn't normally his job to cook dinner. His choice for dinner only proved he really was a true bachelor at heart. "Nothing's wrong with it. It's just… a strange combination for dinner."

"Well, if it makes a difference the cookies are for dessert."

"Of course."

Rice-a-roni, cookies and milk… what a dinner for someone with the flu.


	15. Your Bad Decision

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_**CHAPTER FOURTEEN: **__Your Bad Decision _

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Nineteen ninety-two. Another year has come and gone and everyone's survived (that they knew of). It's a time for a new set of New Year's resolutions are put into play only to be forgotten a few months later with fireworks going off at all hours for the next week or two. But also in a time of celebration was a time of stress for the overzealous school boys and girls who wanted to keep their high GPA's and A averages. This was the time when fun loving James Wilson would act like he would have a coronary if he didn't study hard for the semester exams.

And this annoyed the hell out of Greg.

James had started with this mad study cramming before he was even finished with the flu. It was certainly a sight to come back from class to find James in bed with the bed covered in books and papers and anything else that could give him any bit of knowledge that could help him in his quest for those perfect grades. So important was this quest that the day after Christmas James was ready to get back to his classes while still heavily ill with the flu. Greg actually had to threaten that he was going to tie him down to the bed each time he left the apartment if he kept it up. The only way he was able to calm his anxious friend down was to promise to find out what was gone over in the classes. Greg had tried to tell him that the next few days were most likely going to be review, but James didn't care, he still wanted to get back to class and take in everything he possibly could like a sponge.

That wasn't really what annoyed Greg so much. What annoyed him was that James didn't want to do anything but study. There was no time to cook, no time to go out and have fun and it seemed like there was most certainly no time for Greg. The most time spent on Greg was when he was telling him he should study.

Study.

_Pfft! Yeah right!_

Study almost seemed useless to Greg. He was one of the fortunate few that seemed to be able to learn something and lock it into a designated section in his brain and recall it at a later time with no problem. So while James scolded him for not studying, he stretched back and watched TV, played guitar, or did whatever else could be more entertaining than studying (which truthfully, was just about anything else). Even one night when Greg was in the mood for some for lovin' from his favorite guy he was quickly pushed away as being annoying.

After he was shoved away the first time he had managed to sneak his way back close and tried to change James' mind with a few well placed kisses to the neck. But alas, this didn't work either. After being threatened with being turned into a eunuch, he cowered off to scrounge up some food.

But of course, in true Greg fashion, he wasn't deterred for long. Even with the threat of being castrated looming over his head he started to pester James a little more, only this time it was purely for the fun of being an annoyance.

In good fun he poked and prodded his friend with the only consequence was having his hand slapped or shoved away, and to even farther push the envelope he resorted to stealing his glasses. "Jimmy, you're blind!" He yelped playfully.

Already pretty frustrated with his annoying friend, he looked up with a glare to see what Greg was going on about now. What greeted him was a wide-eyed Greg looking around the room trying to get a possible feel for what James sees on a normal basis without his glasses. "Why are you wearing my glasses?"

"I'm trying to gauge how blind you are." He turned his head about as he tried to take in the sight of everything around the room, but the more he moved around the more he could feel the small hint of dizziness try to take over. "Which is a lot."

"I'm not blind." He defended his quality of vision. "I can see fine enough, it's just I can't read things a distance away. Like that clock over there." He pointed over to a small digital clock sitting across the room on the kitchen cabinet. "Just looking over at it I wouldn't be able to tell you what time it is. I can clearly see that that's the clock with no problem. If I squint," he demonstrated. "I… well, I can see that it's one something a.m… but I really couldn't tell you the time without either taking a step or two closer, or slipping on my glasses."

"So… in other words, you're blind." Greg was starting to feel sick.

James sighed. "I can see you! You're sitting on the floor like a fool, wearing my glasses and looking around. Haven't you heard that wearing someone else's glasses can kill your vision?"

"Not if I wear them for a second!" finally having enough of the small bit of motion sickness he had instilled upon himself, he pulled the black framed glasses off and closed his eyes. He needed some cool fresh air. "Ughh, that was a bad idea." He held his head a moment.

James let out another loud sigh and shook his head. "I'm sorry I have to do this, Greg, but what do I have to do to get you to leave me alone? What, you want to have sex? Is that it?" It was obvious by his tone that he himself was not interested in sex.

"Not if you're gonna be bitchy about it. It's more fun when the other person is enjoying themselves, too." He folded his arms.

James wasn't going to give up that easily. "So, what do you want me to do?" his voice was still stern and annoyed.

That was all he needed to say. "Just hear me out!" Greg barked as he held a hand up in a protective stance. "Let's go get lost in the middle of nowhere!"

"What?"

"You've been studying all fucking day!" he shot, "Let's just go outside and get some fresh air for an hour or two then I promise to _try_ not to bug you too much until after the exams." James stared at Greg for a moment or two as if trying to calculate how much losing two hours of study would affect him but the prize of doing so was too good to pass up.

He knew if he said no Greg would pester him relentlessly and he would ultimately end up killing his boyfriend. "I guess."

"Great! Get your coat! We're going out!"

--

James had absolutely no clue what was going on. At the moment they were in his car, he in the passenger seat, Greg behind the wheel and they drove passed the city limits a long time ago. What annoyed him most was that any time he asked about where they were going Greg would simply only answer that it was a surprise.

A Surprise? A surprise could mean anything when it came to Greg. For all he knew they could be going to New York City but the one thing he did know was that Greg had two hours to do what he wanted. But it looked like it was going to have to amend that little bit when the first hour passed and they were still on the road. But after an hour the bright lights of the cities were fading away in the distance leaving them on a quiet dirt road where the only lights seen were those of a random street lamp or a TV left on inside. It was just when James thought the drive would never end was when Greg pulled the car to the side of the road and turned off the lights and the ignition.

Where were they?

James thought they were supposed to be doing something exciting, parking the car in the middle of nowhere almost seemed like the opposite. He watched as Greg grabbed a blanket from the backseat and got out the car. "Are you coming or are you just going to sit in the car?"

James didn't argue; just got out. "What are we doing here?"

"Don't worry so much, I won't let anything happen to you." He promised as he quietly closed the car door and started off into a dark field.

James closed his door and quickly caught up to him. "This isn't going to be like the theater incident, is it?"

He heard Greg laugh, "No, nothing like that." Maybe it was because it was dark and didn't want to get lost, or maybe it was just for the small bit of assurance, James reached out and grabbed hold of Greg's hand.

It was only after a few more minutes of walking farther and farther into the field before another question came into light. "Now, why are we wandering around in a random field at two in the morning?" James asked as he hoped there wasn't anything hiding in the grass that would bite or attack him.

Greg kept walking and pulled James with him. "We're looking for something you can't find in the city."

"What, snakes?"

Finally coming to a spot that didn't look too wet from dew or any reminisce of snow, he stopped. "Look up."

Confused, James did as he was told. Wide brown eyes stared up at the night sky in awe and wonder. "Woooooow.. " he drew out as he saw all the stars visible in the sky. It had been years since he looked up at the sky and seen so many stars. The last time he could truly remember was a camping trip he and his family had gone on a while back. "That's amazing. I… I forgot how beautiful stars can be." He continued to take in the sight as he felt Greg pull his hand from his and worked on whatever it was he was doing. James was too engrossed on the sight above him to find out.

It was only after a moment or two before he felt Greg grab hold of his coat sleeve and tugged but when that didn't get the desired results right away; he grabbed onto his hand and jerked hard enough to throw him off balance. Before James could correct himself he fell backward but instead of landing painfully onto the hard ground it was a pair of strong arms that broke his fall.

"I would say thanks, but you caused this to begin with." He told Greg as he was lowered onto the blanket that had been spread out while he was stargazing.

"Whatever, I know you're still thankful." Greg laid back on the blanket as he stared up at the sky while James did the same from his sitting position.

It was then as if to show how late it really was James let out a big yawn and rubbed his eyes. That was all it took before Greg pulled him down next to him on the blanket. Seeking out any warmth he possibly could, he curled up against James and pressed his cold exposed face to his neck.

"There's something I've been meaning to ask you," James said suddenly breaking the silence. "You're in your thirties and you're in med school.. I know it's not uncommon, I know. It's just seems like you've known you've wanted to be a doctor for a long while. Why wait?"

"I had my reasons." Greg pulled away from James as he tried to close the subject. He hated talking about the deeper stuff.

But James kept pushing as usual. "like?"

_Well,_ Greg thought to himself, _he knows some of it; he might as well know this part, too. And beside, he's not going to shut up until I tell him._

"Well, as you know father wanted me to go into the military. He kept telling it would make a man outta me, make me the man he always _wished_ I could be." he paused as he thought a moment before continuing. "I didn't want to be in the military, I wanted to be a doctor. In any other family a father would be happy to hear that his son wanted to be a doctor, but no, not my father. Wait, no, a doctor was fine. _You can be a doctor in the service, Greg, they always need doctors._ But didn't he understand? I didn't want to be in the military! I didn't want to end up like him. If being a man meant being like him I wanted no part in it. When I told him that he kicked me out. sixteen and he kicked me out the house. And all my mother did was watch."

He didn't try to hide the scorn in his voice any bit and James didn't expect him to.

"So, I stayed with a friend and finished out high school. Gawd, I was so happy to get away from him. It was like heaven in a sense. But because I wanted to go to college to be a doctor _not_ affiliated with the military I had to come up with my own cash for college. I was paying off a loan with the bank to help pay for everything I needed like clothes and food and books and all that for high school so instead of going straight into college I got a job to try and get some money to pay off some of the loans. Well, I paid them off and worked on saving some money a bit more then got into college, but I ended up having to take out a student loan or two anyway, I didn't save up that much cash while working."

"All he did was cause you hell, didn't he?" James asked quietly.

He felt Greg press back against him. "Yeah. I mean, at first, he was a good father I guess, but even as a kid I knew I didn't want to be a soldier and I told him constantly. I wanted to be a musician, or in a rock band, or a doctor. He even took my guitar and killed it when I refused to join the football team." He shook his head. "I didn't want to be a football jock. I mean, I played lacrosse in college, but I didn't want to deal with football."

"With you being who you are I'm surprised that you didn't kill him yet."

"Oh, I came close, believe me. He knew exactly what buttons to push but I can't do it. My mother for whatever twisted reason loved him. Maybe she loved who he used to be, but I couldn't do it cause of her." He sighed and bumped his head against James'.

But the talk only got James even more curious, "What... what would he do to you?"

He felt Greg stiffen immediately. "I'm not talking about that. I refuse."

"You don't have to." James quickly gave up. He didn't want a repeat of what happened a few weeks before. After things had fallen quiet again, James brought up some news of his own. "Columbia University said they really liked my resume. They're even willing to take me in after exams if I wanted to go."

"What are you going to do?" Greg was just happy to not be talking about him anymore.

He shrugged. "I'm probably going to finish out this year then go."

Greg propped himself up on one arm and he looked down at his friend. "Why stay here when you can go to the school you've been working your ass to get into?"

James turned his head so he was now looking at the grass. "Well, what about you?"

"What about me?" finding it too embarrassing he didn't answer. He knew if he gave the reason Greg would probably tease him but Greg already knew the reason. "Look, you shouldn't let someone get in the way of what you want to do." He laid back down. "I didn't." James still didn't answer. "Isn't Columbia an ivy league school?"

"Yeah." brown eyes still stared up at the sky.

"Will you have to wear those school boy uniforms?"

James let out a small chuckle. "It's a college, Greg, not high school."

"Whatever." He muffled as he pressed his face back to the warmth of James' neck.

In the quiet cold night, the two laid together in the middle of nowhere, on a blanket, under the stars and with that mixed with the late hour and the warmth they managed to get from the closeness of each other; it wasn't long before they had managed to slip into sleep.

It was definitely an amusing sight.

It was two hours later James work up from the sound of a creature crying out in the night. At first he thought he was dreaming. Where the hell was he? This definitely wasn't the apartment but once he figured out that he and Greg had fallen asleep in the middle of nowhere on a blanket, he sat up and woke his sleeping buddy up as well.

"Wha?" a sleepy voice asked.

"We fell asleep." James answered. Unable to read his watch for how dark it was he had no clue what time it could be. "We should probably get going before someone finds us."

Greg agreed.

--

Holding to his promise, Greg tried not to pester James too much while he studied the next day. But after

James thought about what he had said to Greg the night before, even though Greg didn't take it badly, he felt bad. How could he ask him what he could do to get the man to leave him alone? He should have been happy that Greg wanted this attention so badly. He really could be inconsiderate at times.

And in an attempt to make up for what he said, after he was done studying for the exams that started the next day, James joined Greg on the bed where he was reading some medical book. All it took was a few kisses and Greg tossed his book aside in favor for his worked up lover. If things worked the way he wanted, Greg would have every night be like this should his body allow.

Over the past three months, with his strong willingness to learn, James had found out exactly how to touch, kiss, move, and use that pretty mouth of his to get Greg to whimper, writhe, and make his toes curl. And tonight was no exception.

But the next day wasn't going to look as kindly upon them as today did had and this evening of love and romance would be remembered as a pleasant and sad memory.

--

Two exams done and finished and James felt like a million bucks. He knew he made brilliant grades on both because he didn't even have to think twice on any of the question's answers. He didn't waste time on getting home knowing that Greg would already be there waiting for him. He was curious on how Greg thought he did on his exam he had scheduled for that morning but what waited for him was a grim situation.

Sure enough, Greg was at the apartment and waiting but right away it was easy to see that something was wrong by the rock glass of bourbon he held in his hand. There was a pensive look about Greg as he walked over and sat down on the couch, like he was thinking really hard about something. This was certainly a look James hadn't seen on his friend before; he couldn't help but stare. Neither man had said a thing to each other. Greg was too far into thought and James was took worried what would happen if he broke in with a hello. But it seemed that his staring got the attention his none spoken words didn't.

Blue eyes looked up and gave him a forced smile, "Come sit down." He said quietly as he put his glass down on the coffee table with James doing as he was told, still not uttering a word. When he did sit down, Greg let out a sigh as if he was trying to think of how or what to say.

It was useless to even try to deny it. James was nervous. What could be so pressing that even Greg couldn't think of how to say it? And as if trying to help the situation a little Greg pulled him close, but it did nothing to quell his nervousness.

"Jimmy, I _really_ fucked up today." he said guiltily. At that moment James knew that something really terribly bad happened. It would have had to been something extreme to have Greg admitting he messed up. James was nearly holding his breath as he was waiting for the explanation on what had happened and what he had done to cause it. "I, uh.. I'm not going to graduate. I've been kicked out school. I'm going to have to retake the semester somewhere else."

"W-wha? I don't.." he trailed off. He really didn't understand. Sure, Greg's gotten in trouble before what could he have done to get himself kicked out of the school?

"I cheated on one of my exams and... I was caught."

But Greg wasn't a fool; he immediately closed his eyes tight and waited for the blow. Be it physical or verbal, he knew James was going to hit him. And he was right to think that way. "House, you fucking idiot!" James barked. "What the hell did you have cheat on?! You know if you needed help studying anything I would have fucking helped you!!" It could be told how pissed he was at Greg by the fact that he didn't call him by his first name but last.

He tried to explain. "It was the math! I knew everything else on that test like it was the back of my hand except the math! I never liked math." He hoped that his excuse would help lessen the blow from James but it seemed to only make things worse.

"You fucking idiot!!" He yelled again and stood from the couch, "I'm good at math!! I could have helped you!!" Greg didn't even try to fight back. He was an idiot. How was he going to cheat off someone else's exam and be obvious about it enough for the other student known? How was he such an idiot to cheat off of the one person in the class who would actually tell the teacher? How could he possibly get himself in this situation? He couldn't even play it off either. When the student told on him he had the same wrong answer as the student that told on him. When Greg was confronted on how he came out with the said answer he couldn't say. He couldn't work it out.

"What are you going to do?" James asked after he had calmed himself down and placed his hands on his hips.

Greg shrugged. "I have to find another school that will accept me and retake the semester." Sure, this was troubling enough, but this apparently wasn't what really got Greg in his funky mood. This didn't affect James as much as what he still had to say. "You know how they say good things don't always last forever?" Greg asked after a long pause.

"Yeah?"

"I think ours may have hit its last stand."

Brown eyes looked at Greg baffled. "What are you... wha?"

"Go to Columbia. I won't be here so there's no reason for you to stay." James stared. The expression on his face looked as if Greg had just pulled out a gun a shot him. The truth was he knew it probably felt like it, too.

James blinked.

Once.

Twice.

He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. His brown eyes were begging for Greg to say it wasn't true, but he didn't say a word either. Greg was breaking it off just like that. Couldn't they even talk about it? After a few seconds and a hard swallow he was able to find his voice. "Did... did I do something wrong?"

"No!" Greg barked shot causing James to flinch. "Don't you even dare start that blaming yourself shit! This... This is all me." He admitted. "Look, I'm going to be straight with you. I can't be trusted to be in a long distance relationship. I will lie and cheat and I'll only rip your heart out."

"I don't understand." Once again, Greg realized James had some really strong will power. Though his expression was sad, he didn't breakdown at the pain of his heart being torn to shreds. Even Greg's heart hurt but he had braced himself for this long ago. He told himself not to fall in love; the only good thing it was for was to leave your vulnerable to have your heart ripped out before your eyes, and what made it worse was that he knew it was only an amount of time before he did something to fuck everything up like he did to everything else that was going for him, school included.

"You have to. I can't explain it any better."

Greg just wished that he didn't have to break James' heart in the process.


	16. I'm Your False Knight, Babe

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_**CHAPTER FIFTEEN: **__I'm Your False Knight, Babe _

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That night Greg had expected James to act coldly toward him for his decision. So, when he got into bed to sleep and laid on his side of the bed with his back to James he was surprised when he felt the said man curl up against his back. He knew he couldn't just leave it at that.

Letting out a sigh, Greg rolled over to his other side with James pressing close to him and tucking his head under his chin. "You're not going to make this easy, are you?"

He didn't answer.

"You should hate me right now; you should want nothing to do with me." He voiced, trying to figure out the anomaly that laid pressed against him in bed. "You should be telling me to get out of your bed, out of your apartment; not curling up against me. You can't possibly that forgiving. You can't possibly have a heart of gold."

Again, James didn't say a word.

"You can't possibly be as perfect as you make yourself seem." If anything else was said after that James didn't hear it. The soft tones of Greg's voice lulled him to sleep before he could think anymore on the subject.

--

The next day was an even sadder one. When James woke up that morning he really didn't know how he had slept through it, but it turned out that Greg had gotten up and left before he had even woken up. Not just that, his things were gone as well. There was no guitar in the corner of the room, nor was there a coat haphazardly tossed on the couch.

He was gone. Just like that.

How dare he? How _dare_ he leave without so much as a goodbye, how _**dare**_ he sneak out in the early morning like a rat. James couldn't believe that this was the same man he knew from the past four months. It was so cowardice and unlike him to pull a stunt like that.

When James woke up a little more and he sat up knowing he had to start moving. He had to get ready and take his remaining exams. It was then he noticed a note pinned to the lamp shade on his nightstand.

_I'll be back later, went look for an apartment. –Greg_

Did it really have to be this way? Couldn't they work something out? He had tried to discuss it with Greg last night but he wouldn't budge. He kept saying there was nothing they could do. Greg wouldn't allow James to go anywhere but Columbia University, and they both knew, even with his high IQ Greg wouldn't be accepted there. He hadn't done anything impressive and the whole getting kicked out of John Hopkins for cheating definitely would be a turnoff.

This is how it had to be. They had to part ways. They had to live their own lives.

--

Maybe he was an idiot. Maybe he was throwing away the best thing that would ever happen to him. Sure, the way he broke it all to James wasn't nice at all. He was blunt when he should have been a little gentler, but he didn't want to instill any small bit of false hope. He and false hope had cut ties years ago. He knew how painful it was; how heart wrenching it could be. He wasn't going to do that to James.

Maybe this way he was just trying to make himself look the hero's part. He knew even if they didn't actually split up like this it was only going to be more painful in the long run. He didn't try to overlook the fact that they were enviably going to lose touch. Greg had no clue where he could go to retake his final semester of Med School so he couldn't give James an address or number to keep in touch, nor did he have the money to visit the said guy. And on James' part it was nearly the same. He'd be heading off to Columbia University and his location he'd know not.

This way, he could look like the selfless knight in shining armor for a change. He'd be the one to let what he loved free to live his life and dreams. It was a false image, he knew, but that didn't mean James would. What they had.. it was something so strong it scared him. So, maybe he was the idiot in all this and not James, maybe he was going to beat himself for this decision for the rest of his life. Sure, James was going to stay at John Hopkins just to be near him, but he didn't cheat on a test and get kicked out of school your senior year in med school. Sure, he didn't get the math on that test but why did he have to cheat? He could have put any bullshit and he would have still passed. Why did he do that?

All of it was lost to him as one of those stupid things people do sometimes.

--

Even though he was more depressed than he had been in a long, long time, James somehow managed to pass his following exams with flying colors, but once he got home that afternoon and seeing nothing else he could do he started to pack. He pretty much packed everything that wasn't in immediate use. He'd probably be able to get it all pack tonight if not tomorrow but even so that didn't mean he had to feel good about it one bit.

He already had most of the dishes packed away as well as some of the more decorative things; mostly the things that needed special care being pack had already been packed. And when he heard keys being shoved into the lock, for once he didn't know whether to feel happy or sad. Sure, Greg was home, but it only reminded him of the fact that he wouldn't be tomorrow.

Once unlocked, the door opened with Greg walking in holding a bag of Chinese takeout. Somehow, he knew James wouldn't be up to cooking, especially after the news he had. "Hey." He tried to break some of the tension.

"Hey." James answered in return as he didn't even look up from trying to get all the newspaper padded breakables to all fit together. "Did you find an apartment?" turned out he didn't have to think of a way to bring it up; James was straight to the point as always.

"Yeah." he sighed and sat down on the couch. He started to unload the bag out onto the coffee table when he looked up at James. The man was miserable; it could be seen in the very way he was holding himself. Greg had never seen him like this. The only thing that made it worse was knowing that he was the one to make him feel this way. "Jimmy, I feel like an ass."

Still he didn't look up. "Well, you are."

"I know… I just wish I weren't." he admitted as he passed a box of lo mien to the end of the table with a pair of prepackaged chopsticks and some egg rolls. Like a few times Greg was familiar with, dinner was awkward and painfully quiet and was even more disheartened when James stayed on his spot on the floor where he had been packing to eat. Greg was hoping he'd join him on the couch but couldn't find the words to ask him to.

"So, you gonna be at your apartment tonight?" James finally asked when he was done eating.

"Yeah… It's probably best." Greg answered guiltily.

"Yeah." James agreed.

Wanting to put himself in James' good graces any way, and for however little bit he could, he started to gather the food left on the table and headed into the small kitchen area. "I'm just… gonna put all this in the fridge." James didn't answer. Once done with the small task Greg felt it was time for him to go. He was starting to think that he might be outstaying his welcome; James probably wanted to be alone. He made his way over to the front door. "Jimmy?"

The said man looked up for what felt like the first time that evening.

"You're a great guy." He offered before he gestured for James to come over to the door with him, which he did so. Right when he got into reach Greg pulled him into a tight hug. "Give 'em hell, Jimmy. Make them all know who they're dealing with." He encouraged with a sad smile but when all he got in return was a small nod and a hushed _I will_, he knew there wasn't much he could do to raise the spirits of his crestfallen friend. He opened the door and pulled out his set of the keys and handed them to James. "G'night." He spoke quietly from his position in the doorway not being able to look at those brown eyes. He turned and started down the hall.

"Night, Greg."

Just the heartbroken way he let the words fall from his lips were too much from Greg. He stopped in his tracks and turned to face his friend. "Jimmy.. I, I can't let it like this!" He spat. He really didn't know where that came from. "Look, meet me at the park tomorrow at five, out by the lake. Alright?"

James nodded but gave a small, sad, but genuine smile.

"Oh, and one more thing, tomorrow will be a tear free parting, okay?"

"Yeah, sure."

--

Waking up alone was painful. In the short amount of time Greg had been sharing the bed with him he had become so used to curling up with someone at night that he couldn't get to sleep for a good while, and when he finally got to sleep and woke up the next afternoon, the feeling that no one was there to greet you was depressing. He knew he'd better get used to it. Greg wasn't coming back. After he had gotten up James took a shower, made himself a small breakfast, and went straight to packing.

Today he didn't take as much care as he did yesterday on packing. Anything he could get his hands on he threw into a box. He'd sort it all out when he got to New York, he didn't want to reminisce just yet. He tossed folded clothes from his dresser into boxes, folded the clean clothes still in the basket and chucked them into a box, dropped books from bookshelves into another box, and packed his school books and notes into another. Nothing was safe from being packed away.

After he was done with all the mess in the living room area he moved to his nightstand. Unceremoniously he started to chuck everything from inside the drawer into a box. He was going about it so recklessly he might as well just dump the whole drawer in without even looking. It was evident that he was starting to take his frustration out on everything else.

But in the midst of all his packing everything came to a halt when something in his nightstand drawer caught his attention. There, sitting next to some scrap papers and some loose change, was a red silk cord. Suddenly zapped of motivation he sat down on the bed and pulled it out and absently wrapped it around his fingers while his mind started to wander. What was he supposed to do with this? Was he supposed to keep it? And if so, how long was he supposed to keep it for? Or would it just be better to toss it out now?

He hated thinking about these things. He brought his hands to his face and he let out a frustrated groan. What the hell? He was supposed to be happy this time in his life! He was being accepted into the school he had been working so hard to get in to and plus he'd be getting to live in New York City! But what does he get? His brother abandons him and his family after nearly killing him, he missed the registration date for his school, he finds out he really is gay, wait.. _bisexual_, and that right when he really came to terms with that fact, his boyfriend, who's most probably a genius, cheats on an exam and get's himself kicked out of school.

He was supposed to be happy, and his birthday was in a few weeks! Someone up there hated him for some reason and he didn't even know why. Maybe he had done something terrible in a past life that could justify this or maybe there was something later on down the line that was going to happen to him that would make up for all of this. Whichever it was, James still found life to be unfair.

Never had he felt so utterly alone and in a sense he was. In all this time he didn't even bother to get to know anyone else. Maybe it was because he eventually knew he'd be leaving and anyone he met he'd ultimately have to leave behind; maybe he should have done the same with Greg.

But he knew it couldn't be helped. Greg rushed in and took him by surprise. In an instant Greg had make himself at home under his skin and had known exactly what to do and what to say to keep him intrigued and interested. Greg House was a hurricane and it was impossible to ignore him.

With a final sigh, James untangled himself from the thread and tying it around itself dropped it into the box along with everything else from the nightstand drawer.

He wasn't looking forward to later. Later was when he'd go to the park to tell Greg goodbye. Sure, if Greg was going to be as great as he said he was it probably wouldn't be that hard to find him in the future but who was he kidding? Life would have gone on; the world wasn't going to stop turning for him or anyone else. For all he knew when he found Greg later on, he would have forgotten all about him and had him someone else or better yet, gotten married and maybe a kid or two.

For all he knew Greg in ten years would be living the dream James always wanted for himself.

Why should he even give a damn about James? Why even try to find him? To remind him of a time when he was younger, a time where anything you did in the past you could pass off as a faze? Sure, thirty two is a little later than normal to be experimenting, but it could easily be passed off as such. James had to keep telling himself it wasn't the end of his life. Sure this year and so had be particularly hard on him but it wasn't the end of the world. He'd get through it like everything else.

This meant he still had a crack at that American man's dream he had been hoping for, a beautiful wife, kids, white picket fence, a house…

House… why couldn't the man's name be Williams, or Jacobson, or even Brown? Why House? Why was it that he was going to be cursed with the possibility that for the rest of his life when he heard the term _house_ the first thing that would come to mind would be his beau from Med School and not a building made for people to live in? Life could be completely unfair sometimes. Lucky for Greg the only thing he had to worry about was walking into a sports equipment store to have the memory be sparked by the _Wilson_ brand.

But that's life as funny as it may seem. Glancing at his watch… his new and pretty light blue faced watch, he saw later was closer than he expected. It was time to get back to packing. Brooding will have to wait 'till later.

--

At five o'clock James found himself standing by the lake as a cold wind bustled about as dark clouds started to loom overhead. Such fitting weather for such a sad day. James stared miserably out across the water of the lake as he waited for Greg to meet him. Soon he became tired of standing after about ten minutes and sat on the ground next to a small sapling cherry tree that barley reached over his head when standing.

But it didn't take long for ten minutes to turn to fifteen and fifteen to thirty. It was around this time, while staring out at the water he noticed the telltale sighs of rain drops landing in the water. And sure enough he could feel the freezing cold drops hitting his exposed face and hands. He scooted closer to the sapling.

By fourty-five minutes the drizzle had turned to an all out downpour. It wasn't quite in sheets but it was still raining hard enough to convince any logically thinking person to leave and seek shelter. But James stayed only slightly discouraged.

When forty-five minutes turned into an hour he was as drench as he could be and Greg still hadn't shown up. He couldn't believe it! He had been stood up! Here he was sitting in the cold rain for someone who wasn't going to come. He let out a broken sigh and leaned against the sapling. He pulled his coat a little tighter around himself.

For the first time since it started raining he was thankful for it. You can't tell the difference between rain and tears. He sat next to the small cherry tree no longer waiting but hating himself for buying to Greg small demand that left him in the cold rain by himself. It didn't seem like something Greg would do to him. He knew he should leave and he was just being a fool if he kept sitting in the rain for nothing. So with one hand holding tight to the sapling's small trunk, he used it to help himself up.

"I was so sure you'd be gone."

Quickly and nearly losing his balance, he whipped around to see find Greg drenched from head to toe watching him.

"I was so sure that when it started raining that you would have left." The rain was loud and threatened to drown whatever they said out so both men were reduced to nearly calling out to each other.

"I didn't think you were going to show." James admitted as he brushed his sleeve but immediately found the action useless. He was soaked, too. "Why are you so late?"

"There was a wreck, I was caught in traffic..." he gestured in the direction of the street but it seemed that Greg's thankfulness that James was still around wore off. "Wait, why are you still here?" he asked stern and slightly annoyed.

James was a little confused, but answered anyway. "I was waiting for you."

"But you're just going to get sick again!" Oh, that explained it. He was concerned.

But the fear of getting sick wasn't going to come between him and his last chance to see Greg. "I don't care! Why are you here?" he retorted.

"I'm here to tell you to get out of the rain before you get sick!" he snapped before looking around for the least bit of covering he could. But it turned out the only thing close was the leafless sapling.

"I don't care about getting sick!" He inform just as loud and annoyed.

"You should." But Greg knew he really wasn't here to lecture James on doing stupid things that got him sick. "Jimmy, I… I'm sorry. I'm sorry about everything. I'm sorry about doing stupid things and I'm sorry if I pushed you to do things you don't or didn't want to do. I can just.. be that way, you know?" he confessed with a shrug. "Gawd, I'm no good at these things!" Quickly he did an about-face and was ready to hightail it out before James could even get a word out but suddenly there was something he knew he had to say. And before he knew what he was doing, he turned back around and grabbed hold of James. Wasting no time he pulled him into a kiss.

Seems he wasn't going to make it easy, either.

With a hand at James' face and another at his arm Greg held him close as he gave James this last, sad and forlorn kiss. Even though this was goodbye in no way did it impede the need and want in their every movement and gesture. Just as it had been that first night Greg had gotten James to kiss him on his own volition, his lips were just as soft and his kiss just as searing. But, alas, it couldn't go on forever. When he pulled back James held tight to him and didn't seem like he was willing to let go.

Greg felt the hitch in his chest and the sob on his breath, "Jimmy, come on, there's no crying! It's illegal today!"

"I know, I'm sorry.." James sniffed as he tried to get himself back in order, but even the rain wasn't fooling Greg. He could read James like the back of his own hand.

"Please don't do this," he said softly, "It makes me think you actually loved me."

"I do, Stupid." He answered back pitifully with a small halfhearted smirk.

It was then Greg knew he had to say it… even if he didn't actually say it. "Jamie, there are some things that I never told you... some things that I should have told you everyday." Those sad blue eyes tried looking everywhere but James. "But that sad thing is I realized it too late."

"I love you!" James spat suddenly without any regards to what those words could do; how much pain they could cause. Greg had only heard him say the words once and when he said it, it was in a playful manner, nowheres near as serious as now. "I love you so much!"

Greg's surprised eyes were now sad and even more heart broken than before. "What? What do you want me to do?" He asked sadly.

"I want you to say you love me. I want you to come with me."

"I do, I can't!"

"Why can't you say it?"

"I've already stomped on your heart! What more do you want?" This was unbelievable. James had doubts of his love because out of the months they had been together he never told him those words, but Greg knew what would happen if he did finally come out to say it. Just by saying those words he'd comfort James and take away all his doubts just to crush him a few minutes later. He wasn't going to do it.

"Just say you love me." He pleaded.

Greg leaned his forehead against James' as he closed his sad eyes. If letting James think he didn't love him hurt him less, than so be it. "I'm sorry." he whispered dejectedly and wrapped his arms tight around him.

He wasn't surprised when he felt James pull out of his grasp. Greg watched him as he gave a small nod or two. "This is goodbye, I guess?"

Greg nodded. "Yeah."

James gave another nod before he looked back up to Greg. With a small peck on the cheek and a quiet goodbye, he gave a small wave before he turned to walk away, not even waiting to hear the same from Greg.

"..bye." he answered just as dispirited. He knew if not telling James that he loved him would spared him any small amount of the pain that he was feeling at that moment as he watched James walk away in the rain, then he knew he did the right thing.


	17. My, How Time Flies

---

_**CHAPTER SIXTEEN:**__ My, How Time Flies_

---  
_  
-Six Years Later-  
_

It's amazing all the things that can happen in six years, especially when you try your best to put the past behind you and try to pretend it didn't happen. This is how James Wilson got through it all. He found no matter how hard he tried it was tough to forget when things kept popping up every once in a while just to remind him.

Sure, there was that whole _house_ thing, but it really wasn't as bad as he thought it was going to be. Sure he'd think about him, but after the first dozen times or so he heard the word it didn't hit him as bad. He also tried his best not to run into any mementos and such by sorting through everything when he got to New York and put them into a small box which he made sure to keep out of sight. There was also his watch. At first he was torn on what to do with it. It was an absolutely beautiful watch there was no doubt about it, but the fact that it had reminded him so much of his ex-boy, well… he had to do something with it.

He tried wearing it for a while at first, but found it a bad thing that he'd get depressed whenever he'd look at the time. He was right; it was the same color of those blue eyes.

So, he tried to sell it.

On one of his days off he found a shop that specialized in watches and brought it in to be appraised, but when he heard the watch held the estimated value of at least four hundred dollars he quickly changed his mind. He hated himself for wanting to sell it and he also felt guilty for getting a price on it. The man had spent _at least_ four hundred dollars on him and what was he going to do? Sell it? He couldn't do it. Even if they weren't together anymore he'd feel too guilty if he had. And besides, Greg didn't wrong him.

Sure, he cheated on that exam, but he didn't cheat on him, he didn't crush him under his shoe, nor did he take advantage of him at anytime. Sure they're relationship ended on a sad note but not on a sour one. They didn't hate each other. When they parted ways they had loved each other more than ever before. So, he put the watch in that box with the other things from his past and tried to forget.

Something else that made it all worse was he only had one person to talk to. There were only three people who knew about their relationship and it was he, Greg and Michael. And lucky for him, Michael always had a sympathetic ear for his older brother. Michael may have still been a little upset with Greg for that one night on the thanksgiving holiday, but he felt a little better when James told him about all the good that Greg had to offer. Sure, he was a little uncomfortable about the whole thing, but James was his brother; he would try to help him in any way he could. And the more he let James talk about Greg the more he could see just how much he loved him.

Forgetting Greg was hard. To him it was an accomplishment when he could go the day without thinking of him. When he managed to go a week he was drenched with mixed feelings. Making himself forget would make life easier but was disrespectful to Greg. It never seemed to get any easier.

Med school was still exciting and he also made sure not to come to fall onto one person for all his needs. He made friends here and there and also made an effort to keep them as friends rather than acquaintances. But of course, he didn't dare let any one of them get as close as he and Greg were even before things had become more intimate between them. These were people he was going to leave behind eventually, he didn't need to get to close or attached. He knew he wouldn't see any of them after med school.

Once again with his hard work and a seemingly borderline _no play_ attitude, the three and a half years of med school went by well enough. Before he knew it, it was the day he had been working his whole life to get to. And it was this day when, once again, the past showed itself… or at least that's what he believed. It was nothing out of the ordinary for all the other young and fresh doctors to get deliveries from loved ones throughout the day and James at that moment had already gotten a box of homemade cookies and cash from his grandparents but it was a box of twenty five beautiful bright red roses that seem to hold his attention more than a box of cookies. He wasn't sure if he had ever felt more awkward being the only guy holding a large bundle of roses that a worker had brought to him after they had been delivered to the front desk during the graduation rehearsal. And with normal human nature everyone was curious as ever and eager to ask who they were from.

For once in his life, James was happy that there wasn't a name on the card, only a message.

_They say that twenty-five red roses is the best way to say 'congratulations', and they say that twelve is the ultimate way to say 'I love you'. So, here are twenty-five red roses to say congratulations on your graduation day and my way of saying I love you twice with one extra for Valentine's Day to say it again._

James was easily liked by everyone in his graduation class for his charm and compassion for others, so it wasn't a surprise when everyone started asking who they were from with fascination. To James, the handwriting alone was enough to give it away, but he simply offered that he didn't know. One of the girls even managed to snatched the card from him and read it aloud with others mock swooning.

"Aww, that's so sweet!" one of the girls chirped excitedly. "What I wouldn't give to have someone tell me that!"

"You must know who she is, James!" Another jumped in.

But he kept playing dumb. No one here needed to know that that was his ex-boyfriend and the best way to keep it that way was to say nothing at all. But that didn't mean he could control the blush in his face.

And sure enough it's always pointed out. "You're blushing! You do know!"

It turned out to be one of the professors that were working on the rehearsal who had come to his aid. "Now, girls, if Wilson doesn't want to talk about it, you shouldn't pester him to do so. Now, pay attention, we're in the middle of rehearsal, here." James gave a thankful smile as he quietly placed the roses back into the box they came in a pushed it under his chair but in all of it there was only one thing on his mind.

_Now you tell me you love me._

He couldn't deny it. No matter how much he wanted to, not matter how much he wished or tried to convince himself otherwise… he missed Greg. There was no one else like him. He was a one in a kind kind of guy. He really was amazing. But it was also obvious that James wasn't meant to send anything back or know where he was. There was no return address, no phone number, no way to get in touch with him. He may have been in a field full of people but he felt completely alone.

Later on, after the graduation and and excitement of the day, he was left on his own when he did the worst thing he could have done. Without opening the box up again since he closed it during the graduation rehearsal, he threw it into the trash. Why hold on to yet another thing that was only going to cause more pain and misery? Why should he torture himself like that? Years before he wondered if Greg would push him out of his thoughts and forget about him. It turned out to be the other way around.

He was trying to forget Greg.

--

His residency was exciting. Finally he could put the books aside and do what he had been wanting to do since he wanted to be a doctor. He could actually help people. He could talk to them, ask what was wrong, get the diagnosis and try to help them. Working in a hospital was a fast pace job and he got to meet so many new people and learn so many new and exciting things that they just can't teach you with a book. Something he also learned was after he graduated and was now a full-fledged doctor, it turned out that your first name suddenly became irrelevant. No longer was he known as James or Jimmy in the workplace or school, but Wilson. It was as if his last name had somehow became his first, but it was just something that came with the job title of doctor.

Another thing that interested him at that time was the healing in massage. Ever curious about new things he decided one day to schedule himself for the Thursday night classes after work so he could learn a bit more about it. But little did he know what would be awaiting him.

This is where he met Regina Cohen.

Regina was a beautiful young girl who taught the classes. She had long beautiful dark hair and pretty hazel eyes with a sweet modest smile that immediately got Wilson's attention. What could he say? He was a guy who hadn't been with anyone in a good three years because of his high priority of school. And it would finally give him the chance to put Greg House behind him and start on trying to achieve that idealistic dream of his.

It was after the third class he worked up the nerve to talk to her. She was as sweet and charming as she looked and was three years younger than him at age twenty-four. She had been teaching classes for two years now and had been living in the state of New York for most of her life but only just recently moved to New York City. James made sure to make a habit of talking to her after classes trying to learn all he could about her.

And when it came out that she wasn't seeing anyone, Wilson knew this was his chance. Suddenly, the witty charm he had managed to keep hold of talking to this girl for the past few weeks left him as he tried to ask her out on a date for the following evening.

Being slightly nervous he fumbled over his words before he stopped himself and gave her an apologetic smile. Though he may have embarrassed himself and though his chance with her was blown, he was surprised when she giggled in return and accepted his invitation. Little did Wilson know was that he had an absolutely irresistible charm about him when he was nervous about making a fool of himself. Especially when it was in front of someone he was trying to impress.

Turned out that was all it took. It wasn't long after that they grew close and moved in with each other and before they knew it they were engaged and the wedding date was planned. It all seemed to go by so quickly, maybe this was Wilson's way of finding an easy way to get on with his life and find the love he had desperately been wanting for what felt like forever. Love this time around was definitely much easier. This was a love that he didn't have to keep secret and hidden away from any prying eyes, this was something he could show off to the world and not have a care in the world about it.

Life suddenly felt good. And what felt even better was bringing her home to meet the family. His parents accepted her immediately and were even more ecstatic when he announced that they were going to get married that fall.

Michael, who was also home on a short break from his second year of college, liked her as well, but he remembered the way his older brother felt and acted months earlier when he confessed that he knew who had sent him those roses on his graduation day. Always trying his best to look out for his older brother he couldn't help but ask him about it when he caught him alone that night. Michael tried to be as gentle as he possibly could, but managed to ask if him if he still loved the man he brought home from med school.

And with a quick turn of his head told him that, even though it was none of his business, he didn't. Michael took the answer with a skeptical nod and didn't say another word on the subject.

When the wedding day finally came he was happy. Here was the day people described as the most happiest day of their lives and Wilson would finally get his turn at it. Suddenly that dream didn't look that far out of reach. After vows and rings were exchanged and man and woman were now husband as wife, Wilson tried to think of this as his happiest day. Quickly following a wonderful wedding reception was a honeymoon in far off Paris, France.

Being married was a wonderful feeling. To know that someone was there waiting for you when you got home from work, to know that you'd always have someone to cuddle up to and protect at night was probably one of the most comforting feelings that Wilson had ever known in his life. Just to know that there was someone who loved him waiting for him was enough to make him feel at ease in his most tense and stressful moments.

But just when he thought he had his past out of his mind there was _always _something to spark the memory. One night while the two of them worked on spending their time as many newly wedded couple do and when things were starting to get rather heated, the name _Jamie _slipped back Regina's lips with Wilson fumbling over himself and immediately pulling away from her.

"What's wrong?" she asked baffled and breathless as he kept his distance.

He wouldn't even look at her. "Don't call me that." He hissed.

"What? Jamie?"

She didn't miss the way he flinched at just the mere mention of it. "Don't." There she watched her husband sitting at the edge if the bed naked with all his defenses on high alert. She didn't know how a simple name could instill this in him. She had never seen him like this.

She crossed the bed to him and try to give him some kind of comfort but he only pulled himself even farther away. He had never been this cold before. "What's wrong with it? It's a cute name." She asked quietly, not too sure of what she should say or do.

"Just… don't call me that."

"Why not?" she stayed close.

Still refusing to meet her gaze he explained the best he could. "I had an ex who called me that. So, now when someone called me that I think of.. my ex."

"Oh. I'm sorry." She apologized sadly sounding as if she had committed the worse crime possible.

Knowing in no way was it her fault, he went to her and wrapped his arms around her. "No, it's alright. You didn't know. I'm sorry." He apologized as well and tried to comfort her. She was so kind and sweet like a soft and delicate flower, he didn't like her feeling bad about something that was wrong with him.

--

After all the excitement that followed getting married and a year or so of residency Wilson was accepted to intern at _Abramson Cancer Center of the University of Pennsylvania_, which at the time went by_ The Cancer Center,_ to specialize in Oncology. Wilson couldn't have been more excited. Not only would he be an oncologist like he always wanted but he'd be interning only minutes away from his parents place.

Right away the couple started look at apartments in the area not quite ready for a house just yet. It wasn't long before they found a nice one bedroom one bath that was close to the hospital so Wilson didn't have to deal with a long commute if he happened to get caught in traffic.

Life was good and everything was going as it should. Wilson was well on his way to becoming an oncologist, and if he had any say in it, a damn good one at that. But it turned out just as life was looking good; something always came along to punch you in the gut.

On trying to find out the best hospitals to send his resumes out to when the time came he had been checking out some of the bigger hospitals in the area and looking into their Oncology programs. But as wonderful as the weather was in Princeton, New Jersey, his day wasn't going to end that way. After he had seen what Princeton had to offer one of the doctors, Dr. Jonathan Talbert told him about a small hole in the wall restaurant he was going to for lunch. Had the best lo mien! He told him. Talbert offered to talk a bit more about the hospital's facilities over lunch, which Wilson graciously accepted.

Being that the place was near the hospital and that it was such a nice day they opted to walk there. "This place is great. They never have a whole lot of people there because it more in a neighborhood than a restaurant district," he explained as they walked. "Which is good for us, because it takes them no time to get the food served up."

"It's been a while since I had good lo mien, I'm looking forward to it…" he trailed off as something, or rather someone, caught his eye.

"Oh, you won't be disapo-"

"…David?" Wilson cut off as he noticed a tall but scraggily fellow dressed in filthy clothes with a just as filthy knit cap pulled firmly over his hair. He may be dingy and filthy but that was David. He was sure of it!

"…okay? Dr. Wilson?" Suddenly, Wilson realized that Talbert was talking to him.

He shook his head as he tried to regroup. "I'm sorry.. Can you excuse me for a second?" Before Talbert could even answer, he was walking toward the small group of homeless people. "David!" He called. Sure enough the man looked up with his dark blue eyes suddenly opening wide as if he had seen a ghost. "David, it's me! It's Jimmy! Don't you recognize me?" he asked confused by his long lost brother's freaked out expression. "David-" before he could get another word out the said man took off down the down the street as if some cops had just shown up to arrest him. "DAVID WAIT!!" He called and with as much speed and agility he could muster, took off after his older brother.

But it was no use. After he turned the first corner he was nowhere to be seen. He stood stunned and confused, his eyes searching everywhere for any sighs of him. It was then Talbert came jogging up to him. "What was that about?"

_Why would he run away? Why did he look so scared? Was he still on meth? He still looked homeless… why did he run away? _

"That… that was my brother. I haven't seen him in three years."

Just when things looked great something always happened to bring him back down. After everything had calmed down and the two had gone to lunch, Talbert tried to resume what they had been chatting about the hospital, but it was no use. Wilson could only think of his brother.

He probably should have told someone. He should have told his parents, told Michael, told Gina, anyone, but he didn't want to let them down. He knew the wound in his parent's heart about their son going missing hadn't healed and it never would heal. He didn't want to rip it open wider with the disappointment he now felt.

He didn't want anyone to hurt like he did.

After a few months Wilson was able to put the thought of his brother out of his mind while he focus on his patients, which turned out to be just what he needed. He was able to focus on them and not worry about things he had no control over. He worked on putting his compassionate nature to some good use by helping everyone who came to him as if they were his only patient. He had a gift to make each and every patient feel comfortable and loved. Be them in their life alone or with family, he always knew how to help. And this would definitely work to his advantage because when he became a certified oncologist all his references he got for his resumes were very high in regards to him. He was a brilliant man, and a brilliant doctor.

After he had sent out his resumes it didn't take long for him to get responses back. He got offers to work here as a oncologist on staff for this salary, an oncologist on staff for that salary there, but when he got a call and heard what was being offered to him from Princeton, New Jersey, he wasn't sure he could say no.

--

When she read Dr. James Wilson's resume she knew she had to get him before anyone else did. All his references screamed his excellence in the field of Oncology, which was surprising for his age but young or not she needed him for her hospital, he'd be an irreplaceable asset to the place. She was in need of a new Head of Oncology since her last one recently retired and the others on staff simply weren't as well qualified as this guy was to fill the position.

So as quickly as she could she got all the information together and gave him a call.

"Dr. Wilson speaking."

"Good, I'm glad I got a hold of you, Dr. Wilson! I'm Dr. Lisa Cuddy, Dean of Medicine for Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital and I just ran across your resume you sent in. Are you still looking for a position?"

"Yeah, I guess you can say I'm still looking over my options before I commit to anything." He gave a kind laugh. He sounded nice enough.

She was relieved. "That's good to hear, I was worried with your resume someone would have hired you already. Well, Dr. Wilson, I'm currently looking for a new Head of Oncology and I think you would fit the position perfectly."

He nearly fainted. Surely he heard her wrong… did she really just offer him Head of Oncology? "P-Pardon me?"

"I'd like it if you can come in sometime this week so we can discuss the matter in person."

"Head on Oncology?" he asked winded.

He could hear her give a small laugh at his astonishment. "Yes, I think you're just what we're looking for."

"I'm sorry, but I think you may have gotten my file mixed with someone else's.. I only recently became certified.." he trailed off. No way this was for real. He _had_ to be dreaming.

She admired his honesty. "No, I think I'm looking at the right file. Dr. James E. Wilson, born February 28th, 1969, which would make you twenty-nine. You received your undergraduate's degree at McGill University in Quebec, your doctor's at Columbia University in New York and interned at University of Pennsylvania's Cancer Center. Is that right?"

"Yeah… yeah that's me." He was absolutely amazed. He'd be Head of Oncology right from the get go. "When can I come in?"

She glanced down at her desk calendar. "Well, how's about Tuesday at one sound?"

"That's great, I'll, I'll be there!" He was so exciting he was shaking.

"Great. Do you need directions?"

"No, I'm sure I can find the place."

"I'll be waiting, Dr. Wilson."

He couldn't wait to tell Regina, he couldn't wait to tell his parent, he couldn't wait to tell anyone who listened regardless to who they were. He wanted to scream it all over the place. Needless to say, he was happy. That Tuesday like they had scheduled he was in Dr. Lisa Cuddy's office discussing hours, salary, clinic, and just about everything else that came along with the package. When they were all done she didn't even have to ask twice before he pounced on the offer.

And this is where he now stood. It was his first day as Head of Oncology and he was in his office trying to set everything up while Dr. Cuddy gave him a general briefing of the hospital. She also made sure to skip over one little detail. In any hope to keep her new Head on Oncology she was going to try and keep the hospital's nuisance, smart-mouthed, doctor under wraps for as long as she could. Especially on the fact that his office was right next door to her new department head's and the fact that they would be sharing the same balcony would be reason enough.

She knew she would have to talk with him about this one. If he did any little thing to worry or even upset her new doctor he was going to be stuck in clinic duty for the rest of his life.


	18. It Wasn’t Supposed to Happen

---

_**CHAPTER SEVENTEEN:**__ It Wasn't Supposed to Happen_

---

"House, I wish I didn't have to go out of my way to tell you not to scare off new hires, really, I could be better spending my time, but I know if I didn't instill some kind of warning you'd leave this hospital doctor-less." Cuddy pointed out as she stood in the middle of his office.

"So, who is it this time?" he asked making sure to leer at her low cut suit while leaning back in his seat. "Did I scare some kiddy doctor? Some nurse in radiology?"

She gave him a suspicious glare. "I didn't get any complaints from pediatrics, yet, but I'm here to tell you that I hired a new Head of Oncology."

"And?"

"_And_ I don't want to hear any complaints from him about you doing any of the crap you're always pulling around here with the new doctors!" She really didn't see why he always had to be a pain in everyone's ass.

"Oh, come on, Cuddy, he's my next door neighbor! I gotta know who's in the neighborhood!" He chirped as he looked out on the balcony and into the other doctor's office. He couldn't see anyone.

"House, this is your warning! Don't do anything to upset him!"

He turned back to her and rolled his eyes. "I'm sure he's man enough to take care of himself! And beside you should be happy... I weed out the weak in this hospital!"

"That would be nice if we were the army, House, but this is a hospital! And I don't want you teasing him on his age, he's a great doctor."

House scoffed. "How old is he? 90?"

"He's 29." She pointed out a matter-of-factly.

"Picking them young, aren't you?"

"Well, you didn't see this one's resume. I know how skilled you are at chasing people off, but I'm just going to tell you now, if you do anything, and I mean _anything_ to upset him or even make him think about leaving you'll regret it! I'll add more clinic hours onto you're already growing list!"

"Yeah, yeah.." he waved her off.

"House, I'm not joking! If you do chase him off-"

"I know! Hell on earth will be bestowed upon me for the rest of my days." Feeling he got the idea, she took her leave for the office next door. It was only an amount of time before her knew doctor found out about his next door neighbor, it wouldn't be fair of her not to give him a heads up on the matter.

He didn't need to be blindsided.

--

"Dr. Wilson?" He looked up from his desk to see Cuddy peeking in.

"Oh, Dr. Cuddy! What can I do for you?" He smiled brightly.

This only made her feel a little guiltier for not warning him about House. "There's something I didn't mention to you earlier. Have you met the hospital's nuisance, yet?"

"Excuse me… nuisance?" he asked with a furrowed brow.

She sighed and nodded. "One of our less… professional doctors of the hospital. He's rather outspoken and loves to try and get on other people's nerves. He's actually chased new doctors off before." She tried to explain. "And even though he thoroughly denies it, I think my previous Head of Oncology retired because of him."

Wilson let out a chuckle as he put his pen down and paid her his full attention. "If he's such a nuisance, then why keep him?"

"He's a great doctor. We opened a Diagnostics department earlier this year and he was made head of it. He's one of this hospital's brightest minds. We've recently started to get cases from other hospitals all over the country for him to give consults on." She shook her head. "Let's just say the pros out weight the cons at the moment."

"So, is this someone I'm going to have to keep an eye out for?"

"Most probably, I told him if he does anything to upset you, he'll have hell to pay." She tried to assure him, but it seemed he didn't need it.

Her new doctor could be just as cocky. "Don't worry about me, Dr. Cuddy; I can take care of myself. I've dealt with quite a few people in my time. I'm sure he won't be that much of a problem. "

"I'm sure you have, Dr. Wilson, but again, if Dr. House does anything to upset you, you come to me and let me know. I'll take care of it."

"Dr. House?" he got out disbelieving. Did she really just..?

Cuddy blinked. "Oh, you know him?"

"Huh? Oh, no, it's just an unusual name, isn't it?"

"I guess so. Well, I'm going to leave you to your work. I just wanted to give you a heads up."

"Thank you."

"Oh, and one more thing," she said from the doorway, looking at the bare door. "Your name should be on the door when you get in tomorrow. Thought you'd be happy to know that."

--

Always one to want to know the latest gossip buzzing about the hospital, House relied on the best source for all his rumor needs, the nursing staff. Sure, if he asked them directly they most probably wouldn't have told him a thing, that's why he was currently holding a news paper and sitting the closet he could to the nurse's station. He had learned this was the best way to hear about any scandals, affairs, or any unscrupulous behaviors exhibited within the hospital… sure his name came up a lot in their talk, mostly in the form of "Did you hear what Dr. House did to…" Didn't bother him one bit, most of it was true, and the stuff that wasn't it just made the nursing staff fear him more, or at least that how he saw it.

"Oh, have you met the new Head of Oncology?" his ears perked at the mention of something that directly affected him.

"No, have you?"

"Yea, he's really nice, and goodness is he handsome!"

"Is he anything like the last guy, Dr. Jacobs? He wasn't too nice to the nurses.."

"No, no! This guy's sweet. I was helping out in the clinic earlier and some idiot bumped into me and I dropped all the files I had been holding. But I guess, Dr. Wilson saw, because next thing I know he's helping me pick them up."

"Dr. Wilson?" House mumbled to himself. There's no way in hell. Yeah, that sounded like a Jimmy thing to do, but there's no way he would be here. He did want to be an Oncologist, though…

"Wow, that was sweet of him. I don't know many other department heads that would help like that."

"Oh, and he had the most charming smile! Whooh! I need to fan myself just thinking about it!" The two nurses broke into laughter as House made his exit. This is something he needed to figure out, and quick. He made his way up to his office and think of how to meet this Dr. Wilson. It obviously had to get a look at him first, he wasn't going to make a fool out of himself with an introduction only to follow it up with _I'm sorry, I thought you were someone else_. There was sure to be other Wilsons that were super cute and charming.

Like, Michael. Was he supposed to be a doctor, too? He had similar looks to his older brother and the same charm.. the charm was definitely a Wilson trait. But really, House wasn't going to fall for the little brother any time soon. So, there he was, pacing in his office as he tried his hardest to think of a plan. It would be easier if he had-

Suddenly his thought were cut short when he heard the door to the conference room open with one of his underlings, Dr. Terrie Stewart, walked in. "Stewart! C'mere, I've got a job for you!" He yelped from the open door of his office.

She walked in with questioning green eyes, "Yes, Dr. House?"

"You," he pointed, "are going to help me with a plan." She only sighed. She wasn't on the best terms with House, he was abrasive and a total bastard, but hell, he was her boss.

"and what plan is this and what do I have to do?" She folded her arms and waited for an answer.

"I... don't know yet." He sat down behind his desk as he looked for anything that could spring an idea.

"Ooookay.. what the objective of this plan?"

"Trying to figure out who the new Head of Oncology is."

"Oh, that's easy, it's Dr. Wilson."

House gave Stewart an annoyed look. "That doesn't do me any good! There's also a Dr. Wilson in ophthalmology! Do you know his first and middle name, his hair and eye color, religious views or what schools he went to?"

She gave him an exasperated look, "What? Are you trying to be this poor man's stalker?"

"Yes, he's my new victim."

She shook her head, disbelieving the extremes her boss went to. "And what do you want with me? Can't you just go introduce yourself? He's right next door."

"He can't see me, not yet." He kept his gaze at his desk and he tried to think of a plan. "What I need you to do is talk to him and hold his attention while I get a look at him." Stewart really didn't get him. No wonder he didn't have any friends. It was amazing he even had a girlfriend; she was probably as crazy as him.

"Okay, and how do I do that? Do I talk about his wife or whatever?"

"You'll scare him if you talk about his wife. Gawd, do I have to think of everything?" She watched as he sat for a moment longer trying to think of what could be used when he immediately pushed his chair back and started to dig in a drawer until he pulled out a cranial x-ray. "I knew this would come in handy!" he tossed the x-ray out onto his desk in her direction. "Alright, here's the plan! You're going to ask for a consult! Show him this and ask him what he thinks and how long he's got to live. Simple. You just have to position him to where I can see his face."

"And where will you be? Hunched down behind some gurney in the hallway?"

He sighed and shook his head as if thinking how stupid she was. "He'd still see me if I was behind a gurney, I'll borrow a crash cart."

"Yeah, because the dying people won't need it while you use it to scope out this poor unsuspecting man."

"Hey! Just take the x-ray and do your job!"

"Distracting other doctors was _not_ in my job description."

"I'll add it then, come on, we need to find my victim!" he shot up from his spot behind the desk and made his way out the office.

Stewart reluctantly followed. "You really need to get a life."

It took about fifteen minutes of them searching various rooms and asking nurses and doctors where to find the alleged _Dr. Wilson_ before they were pointed in the correct direction of a patient's room. Before he sent Stewart out to do her mission, he immediately started to lay some ground rules. "Okay, from what I've heard, Dr. Wilson is handsomely cute and charming to boot. You are, by no means, no matter how handsome or adorable he is; you are _not_ allowed to make any moves on him. I know you're tempted to hit on anything that moves."

She folder her arms annoyed as she shot him a glare. "I would suggest you _not_ insult me when you want my help."

He glared right back, "Fine! But if he's who I think he is, he's mine!" he pointed a finger at his chest further trying to illustrate his point. She didn't know what to make of the statement, if it was just House being House or if he was actually serious about it. And to show his impatience, he pushed her in the direction of the open sliding glass door.

Where the room was placed, House was able to peek around a corner in the hallway and still get a good look inside. He watched with a close eye as she walked in and worked on getting his attention from the patient's loved ones. "Excuse me, Dr. Wilson?" He was nearly convinced by the hair alone that it was him, but when he turned enough for him to see his face he couldn't help the quiet gasp that escaped his lips.

There, holding the x-ray of a man who only had four months to live was James Wilson as handsome as he had ever been. There with those high cheekbones, big eyebrows, and pretty lips he gave Stewart the bad news before handing the x-ray back. He hadn't expected a smile at any point, but when Stewart thanked him for the news and held out a hand for a shake, as if introducing himself, he gave a smile that quickly melted the gruff doctor.

_Kudos to Stewart for that._

It didn't take but a second for her to return. Right away he didn't like that smile on her face. "So, was he who you thought he was?"

"Sure is!" he barked, "Which mean no putting the moves on him, Missy, or else you'll have me to deal with!"

She became rather annoyed at the comment, "Who is this guy, anyway? You're boyfriend?"

"What if he is?" House retorted.

But she only shook her head. "Well, then, he's a bad boyfriend. He's wearing a wedding ring." He shot her a glare and immediately waved her off. Not wanting any more of this ridiculous thing he had cooking up in his head, Stewart didn't think twice as she left him standing there in the hallway.

And even though he knew it was Wilson, he plainly saw it was Wilson, it was good to get some more proof. And He knew just the person to see about that.

--

House threw himself into Cuddy's office with her glaring at him from her paperwork. "House! Can't you knock like every other decent person?"

He didn't even acknowledge the question as he stood in front of her desk with his hands on the edge for support. She made sure to keep an eye on him. But he didn't look like he had some devious plan up his sleeve. If anything he looked…

Excited.

"The new Head of Oncology, do you _know_ who that is?!" Because really, everything that happened in the world happened because of him, so Cuddy must have found out about their love affair and just hired him to get at him… it seemed plausible.

She went back to her paperwork. "I would hope so; I _did_ hire him."

"Where did you find him?"

"What's with all the questions?" she put her folder down realizing that work was impossible when she had a 6 foot man pestering her with questions.

But he wasn't giving up when he had just yet. "I asked first!"

"I'm your boss!" She barked her authority.

With an annoyed sigh and a toss of his head to the side, House reluctantly spat out. "His office is right next to mine. I _have_ to know who he is! Really, I can't have a jerk in the office next to me. Think of how annoying that would be? I wouldn't be able to get my work done!"

"Like you can get it done now?"

"That's beside the point! Where'd you pick this one up? Columbia?" She arched her bow with an expecting stare. He knew what she was pulling. She wasn't giving him anything until he gave her something first.

He cocked his head to the side and shot her a glare.

She didn't budge.

Seeing that he definitely wasn't going to give in, he let out a frustrated snort, "If you don't to tell me anything that's fine! I'll find out for myself!" he made an about-face and rushed back out of the office.

"House.." She got out threateningly.

But that didn't stop him, he made his way out the first set of doors before turning around and peeking his head back in. "You had your chance." And with that he left. While he made his way out the clinic he glanced down at his watch.

Wow, what a day. Work was already over. He loved the days when he didn't have cases; he could run around doing bullshit like this all day and still get paid for it. But it turned out it was time for someone else to go home, because when he glanced up he got a glimpse of the elevator doors opening reveling the very man he had been spending the day trying to figure out. Quickly with the agile speed of a gazelle, House rushed behind the lobby desk.

When the man in question passed by he immediately sprung up, getting a few weird looks from the nurses behind the counter with him. Immediately, he made his way out toward the doctor. He was going to be the one with the upper hand on the situation, not the other way around.

--

Wilson was glad to be heading home. It was tough stuff having a whole department to run. Sure, he was getting some help from Cuddy until he got the hang of things, but dealing with that and patients as well as other doctors coming to you for consults was a new and exciting thing.

But the thing that really played on his mind was the doctor Cuddy had warned him about. _Dr. House_. Could it possibly be the same guy? He hadn't see him yet but he really didn't know any other Houses and hearing he was a nuisance with a brilliant mind only made It believe even more that it could be him. And right now, all he wanted to do was get home, eat dinner, take a hot shower and go to bed.

"Dr. Wilson, Boy Wonder Oncologist, I presume?" Wilson's breathing came to an abrupt stop as his heart promptly lodged itself in his throat. That voice. _Oh my God, it __**is**__ him!_ Wilson knew he had to keep his cool and that he had to turn around. With a deep breath that he tried his best to hide; he turned to face his caller.

"Hm? Oh, yes, hello." He was nearly at a loss for words, because there, standing in front of him, was none other than the man who he knew back in med school. He still had that messy dark brown hair, short recently shaved stubble, and those blue eyes. How the hell did this happen? He was supposed to be forgetting House not working at the same hospital!

"Soo, Head on Oncology at twenty-nine… What's the world coming to?" He asked his a smirk.

But Wilson knew he had to follow through with his plan. What happened between them was years ago was something that wasn't even supposed to happen. He was supposed to go to Columbia University, not John Hopkins. It wasn't supposed to happen… "I take it you're Dr. House, the one Dr. Cuddy warned be about."

"That'd be me." House said with a hint of disappointment in his voice. Was the man suffering from a bout of amnesia? He thought to himself. Did he hit his head sometime in the past six years? How the hell could he forget him? The only thing House knew was that he wasn't going to be the one to make a fool of himself by trying to spark this man's memory. If he didn't have the decency to remember, well, he wasn't going to take the time to remind him. Now obviously annoyed, House tried to take his frustration out on his long lost friend. "Aren't you a little young to be playing around with the other department heads?"

"Yes, well, if I remember correctly, you're the one who started playing with me." He retorted without so much as having to think about it.

Oh, Cuddy didn't have to worry about a thing; this one could definitely take care of himself. He won't be running away any time soon. "You looked like you wanted to play."

"Sorry to disappoint you, but I don't _play_. So, if you'd excuse me, I have a home to get to." And without waiting for another word from House, Wilson turned and made his way through the lobby and out the main doors.

"I leave you alone for one second and you revert back to your old _all work and no play_ attitude." He sighed to himself. This was a challenge, and there was nothing House loved more than a challenge.

Oh, this wasn't over; not by a long shot.


	19. I’m So Scared About the Future

---

_**CHAPTER EIGHTEEN:**__ I'm So Scared about the Future _

---

Wilson couldn't believe it. What were the chances that he would be working at the same hospital as Greg House? He really didn't know if the gods were smiling at him or trying to get back at him for something he couldn't remember doing.

He knew he should have been doing some work to catch up to where he needed to be, but all he really wanted to do was stretch out on the couch and wait for dinner. And while waiting for something in the kitchen to simmer for a while, Gina showed up in the living room and sat down next to her husband before curling against him with him reluctantly wrapping an arm around her. He didn't even realize she was talking to him until she had said his name twice to get his attention.

"Huh? I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"I said dinner's almost ready. James, is something wrong?" He jerked his head up to see Gina's questioning but worried gaze on him.

He smile back and tried his best to reassure her. "Everything's fine."

"Does it have something to do with your new job?"

He let out a weak but nervous chuckle, "Work's fine. I just ran into someone I used to go to school with."

"Oh? Someone you didn't get along with?" She sat up, ready to check on the food simmering on the stove.

"Oh, no, no. We... were in med school together. It's just been years since I've seen him." Because, really? How do you tell your wife that you ran into your ex-boyfriend at work and he's just as he's always been? He didn't even notice her leave for the kitchen.

--

He was sure dinner was good. It smelled good, and it looked good… he just didn't feel like eating. "Are you sure nothing's wrong? You haven't touched your dinner." She suddenly started sounded like his mother.

He put his fork down. The most he had done with it so far was push his food around absentmindedly. "No, I'm okay; I'm just not that hungry, you know? I'll just put my plate in the fridge and eat it tomorrow for lunch." He gave her another smile hoping he could fool her. He didn't know if he had or not, but she didn't pry into his feelings much further.

He stayed sitting at the table feeling even though he himself wasn't eating, he still had some sort of obligation to sit there and keep Gina company but it only let her watch her husband sit there sadly at the table. It was only when she was done eating and she stood to bring her dishes to the sink did he stand as well and grabbed the plastic wrap and worked on saving his food for lunch the next day.

"Tell me about your friend." Gina said as she turned on the water to wash the dishes. Knowing she had difficultly hearing him over the running water he got closer and started to dry the dishes as she was done with them.

"He's a, a good guy. I had met him while I was in med school one night while at a restaurant and he was playing the piano. I didn't realize he was the legend on campus everyone was talking about until after a while of knowing him."

"What was he like?" He wished she wouldn't ask suck questions. All they did were help him remember how things used to be. How happy he was.

"He's so.. intelligent. I don't think I've ever met a smarter man." She should have heard it in his voice and known then and there, she should have heard the alarm bells going off in her head at that moment... but it seems the alarm wasn't manned at that time. "He's such a brilliant man and doctor." Wilson's face seemed almost glowing as he spoke about his old abrasive friend and lover from med school. Lucky for him Gina was too busy dealing with dishes to look at him. "His attitude could come across as harsh and caustic... and well, it was, but he was a fun guy. He never let things get too serious. Life seemed like just a big game to him. I think it still is..." He sighed to himself and grabbed the next dish handed to him. "It's... it's just great to be able to see him again, I guess."

--

"Well, don't you look happy!" Stacy commented as she walked into the apartment after coming home from the office. She put her bag down next to the coat rack. "What, did you figure out a particularly difficult case, or did you beat Cuddy at her own game?"

House was stretched out on the couch watching TV. "Nope, even better." He smirked as he leaned his head back against the armrest to get a look at her and was rewarded with a kiss.

"What could be better than that? That's like finding the Holy Grail to you." She made her way down the hallway into the bathroom and left the door cracked so she would still hear him.

House was never one to give a damn about the neighbor's well being about his loudness. "Remember my roommate from med school I told you about?" he called out.

"The one who would drive you crazy and wouldn't listen to a word you said?" she called back just as loud.

"Not him, gawd, no! The smart Gene Kelly wannabe!" He heard the toilet flush before she reemerged from the bathroom holding her shoes as she made her way down the hall.

"Yeah, I remember. What about him?"

His smirk was back. "Well, today was his first day as the new Head of Oncology at the hospital." She didn't have to even speak for him to pull his legs off the couch to give her a place to sit before he leisurely stretched them back over her lap.

"Well, how'd he make out since then?"

"Fine enough, I guess. I really didn't get to talk to him that much. I know he's got a wife, and he's just as prissy as ever." He laughed. "Still looks the same.. except, you know, a little older. But he still has that same hairstyle and big eye brows. I have a picture of him somewhere around here." He yawned before he forced himself to sit up. "Where did I see that last?" He asked himself aloud as he hunched over in thought.

"Was he cute?" she asked curiously.

House quickly sat back up and shot her a look of confusion and disbelief. "How are you going to ask me that?"

She shrugged, "You're the one offering to show me his picture. I just figured there was a reason for it."

"Yes, he's cute." He stated a matter-of-factly, but totally not in a gay kind of way. "He's already got the nurses at work swooning over him." He followed up trying to cover his ass.

--

A day or two later Wilson didn't know what to expect as he went down to the cafeteria for some lunch. Well, he expected a peaceful time to eat, maybe it was better saying he didn't expect what did happen to happen. While he was in line with a fresh hot Reuben sitting on his tray, he was surprised to feel a sudden, quick, and sharp pain near the top of his ear, like someone had thumped it with their finger.

But he must have been wrong. Who would possible as childish to do..? House quickly slipped ahead of him in the line.

"Oh.. it's you." He said with a sigh and a shake of his head as he rubbed his sore ear. "I though I was too young to be playing around with your kind?"

House shrugged. "My kind is your kind, too, I guess. It's unavoidable." He snatched the bag of chips off Wilson's tray and offered up a smile when a glare was shot his way. "You need to watch your girlish figure."

"Will that be paper or plastic?" The woman standing behind the cash register asked.

"Oh, I'm with him." Wilson opened his mouth to object, but before he could even get a word out, House was gone and the cafeteria woman was waiting for payment. With a sigh, he pulled out his wallet and paid the woman.

Wilson looked around the small cafeteria as he slipped his wallet back into his pocket. It didn't take long for him to spot the culprit sitting back and cutting a freshly acquired steak. He went over and sat with him. "For a brilliant doctor I didn't take you for a crafty thief as well." Wilson said with a small glare as he sat his tray down.

"It's convenient."

"Maybe on _your_ wallet it is- Hey! You already stole my chips, you going to steal my sandwich, too?" he spat as House snatched half of his worked up friend's Reuben sandwich.

"You know what they say about how satisfying it is to eat something you worked to get? It's true." And with that, House took a bite out of the stolen Reuben and spoke with a full mouth, "It's all the more delicious."

"Worked for? You stole it off my tray!"

"And that's work!"

"Fine!" with that, Wilson stabbed his fork into a chunk of the stake that House had already cut loose and took a bite, quickly chewed, and swallowed. "Now we're even."

House laughed. "You have a strange sense of even. You're not going to fight me about the stolen lunch money?"

"Why bother?" he shrugged as he picked up other half of Reuben, "It's not like you're going to pay it, and besides, what's a few dollars when you're a doctor?" he took a bite.

"I'll definitely make a note of that." House smirked as he thought about new ways to get his new friend to pay for his lunch everyday.

--

There was something Wilson learned very quickly about sharing a wall with the Diagnostics department's conference room; he liked to listen. When House would get a case and he'd be going over it with his underling it was no problem to overhear what they were going on about with that booming voice of his. He told himself it wasn't rude or ease-dropping if he wasn't going out of his way to listen.

He got to hear all of the witty metaphors, retort, insults, and just over all scolding. Poor House, didn't he realize these people didn't really have the passion for what he had to offer them? Even Wilson knew that the three House currently had under his command were just three fellows Cuddy picked at the last minute. She should have let House do it himself, but then again, he might not have even done it if she left it to him.

So, needless to say there was a lot of yelling at how they weren't even trying on House's part. All he really needed was for someone to give him that spark, that little epiphany he needed so everything would fit into place. Wilson wasn't on the job but three days when he managed to instill one of these epiphany. All he did was make a comment on a patient down in the clinic he treated earlier that day who had ringworm and thought he had Leprosy.

It had been a week and a few days since he had started working at PPTH and already he had been spending more time with House. It couldn't be helped. The man was always around and he was someone easy for him to be around in a sense. He was funny, but still he didn't mention anything about med school and its happenings back then and neither had House.

Neither of them really knew why they didn't bring up that year at Johns Hopkins. Maybe it was that neither wanted to be let down by the other not remembering one of the happiest time in their lives, or maybe they didn't want to bring up something so wonderful only to think about it and get nothing of it in return.

Sometimes things change and you can never go back to how things were. Sometimes things just aren't meant to happen again no matter how much you want them to. No matter how many times you relive the past in your mind it stays just that.

The past.

But whatever the reason, it looked better not to mention it. This way Wilson knew he could try and start over with a new clean slate. He was married. He just had to keep reminding himself of that. He'll be fine if he'd just remember that small detail.

--

"Why, hello, Dr. Wilson! What can I help you with?"Stewart said with a cheerful smile. She didn't care what her boss said, this guy… Wow. But it was the sound of House clearing his throat that told her he knew just what she was up to. With her pleasant disposition suddenly turning annoyed; she left the room.

He glared at her as she left his office. "What can _I_ help you with?"

"You're actually the one I came to see." House gave a cheeky smile as he sent a triumphant look over in Stewart's direction. Wilson didn't know what was going on. "Paint ball Friday evening?"

"Why, I'd be delighted to kick your ass Friday night with a rifle!" House yelped with mock glee and giddiness.

But Wilson held up the note he found on his desk. "You invited me."

"I did not!" he objected. He loved to play around with his new buddy. "What makes you think I invited you?"

"Well," Wilson walked up to the desk and dropped the note onto his desk, "being that it's written on one of your prescription sheets seems fact enough." Sure enough, on the back of the note in bold black print along with the hospital's logo in the corner, was the name _Dr. Gregory House_.

House took the note and shoved it into his pocket.

"Couldn't find anything else to write on? A napkin would have done just fine."

"Hey, it was convenient." He pulled his prescription pad out of his other pocket to prove his point. "I had just come from the clinic. It was all I had." He opened his drawer and dropped his pad in. "So, you coming?"

"I, uhh.. I've never played before."

"What?" House barked in disbelief. "Well, then, you're definitely going!" he gave a laugh. "I'll show you some pointers before I promptly shoot you dead!"

"Well, it's nice to know you'd love to see me dead."

"Dead and yellow."

Wilson shook his head. "Yellow?"

"All I currently have are yellow paintballs."

--

When Wilson was back in his office and alone, one thing was evident. It was still there. As much as he didn't want to admit it, as much as he just wanted to keep it locked up somewhere deep within his heart and never let it see the light of day, he knew it was impossible. Each time he saw House laugh or smile at something he said, or sought him out just to talk about something random or had no point (or maybe had a point), he could feel it.

Not only was he starting to warm up to his old friend, but he could feel those old feelings starting to surface. He wanted to lock then away in a metaphorical closet and forget they were even there. He was married for heaven's sake! He had a wife! He couldn't be doing this, he couldn't start thinking of his friend like that when he was already in involved and had a ring on his finger to prove it. He needed to talk to someone; he needed to get it all out. He needed someone who would listen to him regardless to what he had to say.

He needed to talk to David. Before all the mix up with the drugs and such, David, no mater what his younger brother had on his mind Wilson usually went to him for help and David was always more than happy to help his little brother. But now he wasn't here… Michael would have to be his sympathetic ear. There was a distinct difference to how his brothers helped him out. David was one to give whatever kind of advice you could be looking for. He would often have three different routes you could take to achieve the same thing with slightly different effects. Michael was more of a listener. He was the guy you went to tell all you problems and woes to and he'd listen without objection and would offer up the best he could if asked.

Wilson could really use his older brother's advice… but would settle for his little brother's patience. That night he waited until Gina went to take her shower before heading off into the living room to call his brother.

"Hello?"

"Michael, it's me."

"Oh, hey, Jimmy! What's up?"

"Do you think you can come down tomorrow and have lunch with me? I... I need someone to talk to." He could hear the worry in his voice.

"Sure, no problem. I have a meeting to get to around noon, but I'm sure it'll be over by two. How's two for you?"

"It's great," Wilson spoke quietly into the phone, this, Michael picked up on almost immediately.

"What is it that you can't talk over the phone about?"

"I can't, I'm sorry. I... I just need to talk about it in person. Gina's in the shower… I, I need to talk to you."

"Yeah, that's fine, Jimmy, you know you can talk to me about anything. Look, I'll give you a call after the meeting and we can figure out where to meet up, okay?"

"Thanks."

"No prob."

Sure enough, the next day around lunch Wilson got a call from his brother about meeting up at a local bistro for a meal and where they could talk. Wilson wasn't sure he had ever been happier to see Michael in a long time.

"Now what so pressing that you need to talk to me in secret?"

"Michael, I don't know what to do… I'm so confused. It's.. it's like I've been here before." Wilson brought his hands to his face. "Do you remember Greg? From when I was in med school?" Michael gave a cross between a confused and suspicious look.

"Your..." he lowered himself closer to the table and lowered his voice, "ex-boyfriend?" James nodded. "Yeah, I remember him."

"I know you didn't really like him-"

"It's not that I didn't like him, it's just that he was... well, Greg."

"But you didn't get to see him, I mean really see him. He was so brilliant... so, wonderful."

"Jimmy, where is this going?"

Wilson shook his head and stopped his reminiscing. "I'm not sure what to do. I... ran into him the other day and everyday since. Turns out he works at the hospital I'm at now." He kept his eyes on the table feeling too ashamed to meet his brother's gaze. "From what I hear, he's still as brilliant as ever. I'm nervous because... Well, you remember how you asked me if I still loved him a little after I had proposed to Gina and I told you no?"

"Yeah..?"

"Well, I lied." He spoke in a low voice, his shame not allowing him to bring his voice any louder.

"I know." Wilson didn't say anything, only nodded. But Michael knew his brother too well, he knew that wasn't all. "But you didn't bring me here to tell me that." Wilson took a deep breath and opened his mouth to speak but closed it. Michael waited a minute or two as he watched Wilson stare forlornly at his drink but making no attempt to continue. "Come on, Jimmy, you need to talk about this. You wouldn't have called me if you didn't."

He nodded and took a hard swallow and forced the words from his mouth."I'm scared... because I'm not sure I can trust myself near him. I'm afraid if the opportunity presented itself... that I'll cheat on Gina." Michael let out a breath.

Of all the things his brother could have called him out here to talk about he never once expected to hear that as a confession.

"I'm nervous about it all. I thought I was getting over it well. I'm married and everything was going great. Though it still kind of hurts to think about it, I felt I was recovering. It's… it's like there's something missing and as sappy or cliché as it sounds, I don't feel… complete?" He let out a groan. "I don't know! But one look of those blue eyes of his and it's almost as if nothing had really changed. It's like all those years ago. What scares me is that I'm married. I shouldn't feel this way about him. I should feel this way about Gina and no one else. But I can't get him out of my mind!"

Michael didn't say anything, just doing his best to take all that his brother was telling him. It's a heavy load to take when your brother tells you he's had thought of cheating on his wife, especially when she was so sweet and kind to him. She loved Jimmy.. and it seemed Jimmy loved her same for so long, could he really hurt her like that?

"He seems to have moved on well enough, too. He's got a girlfriend. I haven't met her, but I hear they're great together. I'm scared about the future I guess you can say... God, Michael, I don't know what to do!" He got out his voice filled with worry and fear. "You're the only one I can talk to; no one else knew we were together." Wilson sighed and put his face in his hands as he tried to think about anything he could other than Greg House and those intoxicating blue eyes of his.

"That's something… I'm not sure I can really answer for you." Michael told him honestly. "You should keep your attention on Gina, she's your wife, but I don't know how it feels to be working and seeing your ex that you still have feelings for everyday." He sighed and looked at his older brother. "I wish I could be more of a help."

Wilson shook his head. "You're doing just fine. I just need someone to tell, I needed to get it off of my chest." He picked up his fork as he tapped it gently against his glass of water as a means to keep his hands occupied.

"Are you going to tell Gina?" Wilson shook his head.

"I want to say it's no big deal, that nothing going to change and I'll fit on right and well into my new job next to Greg House... but I don't think I can honestly say that…"


	20. With the Future Comes the Brokenhearted

---

_**CHAPTER NINETEEN: **__With the Future Comes the Brokenhearted_

---

The rest of the week seemed to pass by in the blink of an eye and before Wilson knew it he was sitting in his office on the Friday afternoon with House sitting on the couch along with him while he tried to get work done. But leave it to his childish friend to always be doing something to keep Wilson's mind off work and on him even when he wasn't really trying.

"What are you eating?" he asked as he caught the sight of House trying to work some gelatin redness from a small plastic cup in his hand with his teeth.

"Red Jello with fruit in it," He answered a matter-of-factly before reaching his tongue into the cup and fishing out a chuck of fruit free from the jello and eating it. He immediately gave a slightly bitter expression. "..that tastes like cough medicine." He added.

Wilson had to look away at one point. He would be lying if he said watching his friend work the sugary gelatin with his tongue didn't start messing around with reactions that didn't need to be messed around with during work hours. "and you're still eating it?"

House just shrugged and started working some more jello loose with his tongue again.

"Without a spoon?"

"Didn't have one." Wilson looked back up to see House getting tired of using his tongue and settled for crushing the cup in with his hand, tilting his head back and shaking the last of the cups contents into his mouth. Wilson snickered quietly when House promptly cringed as he worked the bitter tasting jello in his mouth before forcing himself to swallow. "Yuhh." He let out and smacked his lips.

Wilson shook his head. "A normal person would have stopped eating when they found it disgusting."

"I had already gone to the trouble of stealing it from pediatrics. The least I could do was finish it."

"Right." Wilson grabbed the file he was working on and filed it away with the others in one of his desks bottom drawers. "So what brings you here? I'm sure you could be eating your stolen goodies in more secluded places than my office."

"You're too Goody-two-shoes for anyone to suspect any wrong doing going on in your office. This is the perfect place to eat in peace."

"Well, in that case, I'm glad my good reputation can shield your thieving ways." House tossed the cup across the room with it just making it into the trash. "So, why are you _really_ here?"

House smirked. "You still down for paintball?"

"It's going to be dark in an hour; don't you think it's too late?"

"Nope."

"Fine, who's all playing?"

"Just us. I thought it would be more humane to let you get the hang of the game rather than sending you out to slaughter on your first try."

"How generous of you."

"Yeah, and this way no one can take the glory of kicking your ass away from me."

--

After the two had left the hospital they drove out until they were in the middle of nowhere in Wilson's opinion and the sun was just about ready to set. He didn't understand how they were supposed to play this game in the dark but House always seemed to have a plan for everything.

"Put these on." He said handing Wilson a pair of black coveralls he pulled from the trunk of the car.

By the looks of them it was obvious that they had been used before being that reminisce of paint could still be seen.

House looked up and knew that look Wilson was giving him. "Oh relax! They've been washed! You think I'm just gonna make you run around in some strangers nasty sweaty coveralls?" Wilson took them with a skeptical look. "They're mine! Look!" he took the coveralls and showed him the back of the collar with the telltale scrawl in white letters reading _HOUSE_.

"Just your sweaty nasty coveralls."

"They've been washed!! They're clean!!" he tried to stress the clean as much as he could. And as if to show his friend it was alright, he started to pull the coveralls he took for himself out the trunk on with Wilson reluctantly following suit. "I've bought the coolest thing that I've been dying to try out. And it would make more sense to try it out in the dark." Wilson folded his arms and kept watching as House pull out the paintballs and worked on loading the guns in the rapidly fading daylight. Wilson really didn't know how all this as going to turn out. He was a beginner and last he checked he didn't have a cat-like sense of seeing in the dark. "Okay, so since they're only two of us, we can play a.. Free-for-all, if you will."

"What?"

"I'm trying to think of how to explain it…" he paused a moment or two as he tried to think of how to put it into words what he was trying to get across. "As practice for you, we'll have.. Something of an elimination game. Obviously you're one side, I'm the other and our objective is to take out the other side. If I shoot and kill you, I get a point, if you kill me, then you get a point. Pretty much we keep on and keep score until we just… don't feel like it anymore."

Wilson nodded. That was easy enough to understand.

"I've got this note book here that will serve as a score board." On one side he wrote an H and the other side a W and marked a dividing line in between them. "Obviously when I get a point I'll mark it under my side and vice-versa." House shook his head. "But you're not stupid, I'm sure you know how keeping score is done." He waved his hands around showing his frustration.

Wilson smiled.

"Alright, okay, you shoot like you would any other gun, you load the paint balls into the hopper up here but you don't really have to worry about re-loading all that much being that we can reload while marking the scores, but just in case we can mark the scoring area as a safe zone." He picked up one of the rifles. "I also have more paintballs in the trunk if we start getting low on ammo."

"It's almost dark, how are we going to see anything?" Wilson finally brought up; already finding it hard to see much of anything in the soft glow from the already setting sun.

House suddenly gave a big and excited smile. "This is what I've been dying to try." He aimed for a nearby tree and pulled the trigger. With a quiet pop a paintball flew from the gun and splattered against the tree and suddenly Wilson didn't need words to understand. The paint was glowing. "Glow-in-the-dark paintballs. Coolest thing _ever_." House mused out loud.

"How are they glowing?" This was new to Wilson. Sure, he understood the whole Glow-in-the-dark concept but the only thing he knew was it needed light to charge the phosphors. He saw no light.

But it turned out this went on the same light charging concept. Always happy to teach Wilson something he may not already know; he quickly slipped the rifle under his arm as he worked open the hopper. "Same way everything else like that glows. There's a light mounted inside, see?" he pulled the top off with a light shining out and brightening up the darkness already settling down around them.

"Hm."

"And now, this.. This is gonna be fun!" he chirped excitedly.

But another thing was on Wilson's mind. The last thing he wanted to do was cheat and not know he was doing so. "When I'm hit how will I know? Will I feel it?"

House chuckled to himself. "Oh, you'll know. We're not using any padding, so it's gonna hurt. I'm relying on hearing your cries of pain to know if I hit you or not."

Suddenly Wilson was hit with a small hint of fear. He was about to consent to playing a game where you're shot with these capsules filled with glowing paint via a gun at high speeds that was going to hurt like all hell. Suddenly he was starting to think he had lost his mind. This went against everything his nature was trying to tell him. Being shot equaled Pain. Pain equaled BAD! But he also felt a bit of excitement deep in his belly. He wanted to play. Now Wilson knew something was wrong with him.

"Now for the general rules. Obviously getting a hit to your gun and such doesn't count as a hit. You're not going to die if your gun was hit in a real war.. Well, there is a ricochet factor, but we're not going to do into that much detail here for a game. Also splatter from nearby objects count as nothing as well. Any hits to the head or torso are automatic deaths. For limbs you need two shoots for a death." House put his rifle down on the table next to the notebook scoreboard as he tried to explain the limb shots. "Okay, let's say I've been shot in the arm, then shot again in the same arm, I'm dead. If I'm shot in my leg twice I'm dead again. Okay, I'm shot in the arm and leg, oh! I'm dead again. Get it?"

"Yeah, simple enough." Wilson nodded and picked up his rifle and held it up as if aiming.

House picked his rifle up as well. "So, you ready to get your ass kicked?"

That uneasy fear grabbed at Wilson again. "Can't I get some aiming practice before I'm faced with your onslaught of bullets?" House rolled his eyes and waved his hand out before them as if saying _Go ahead if it makes you feel better._ "I've done archery, but this is a horse of another color, I know."

"How were you at that?" House asked off-handedly as he reached out and corrected Wilson's aiming.

"So, so." He shrugged as he shot once or twice at a tree with the glowing paint splattering and littering the ground and grass with luminescent speckles. "I could at least hit the target… the bull's-eye, well, not as much."

After a few more shots he put the rifle back down on the table. "I know you're not gonna want to mess up that perfect hair of yours, but a helmet is required. I'm not going to be the jerk bringing his buddy to the hospital because we didn't feel like putting our helmets on." House didn't have to say another word before Wilson took the offered helmet and shoved it over his head; not giving a damn about his hair.

Still not quite finished with his teachings, House reached out and knocked on the helmet. "You can still hear me, right?"

"Of course, I'm not deaf." He growled.

House held up his hands in defense. "Just making sure!" he quickly went back to his explaining the rules. "The whole field it up for play, you can hide behind anything available, and you can even make things to hide behind if you're crafty enough. The only light we'll be allowed to use is the moonlight, which is pretty bright tonight. No flashlights. And really, if you use one, it will just make it all the easier for me to see where you are."

"You know, this is going to be hard playing in the dark." Wilson stated as he looked around the field.

House chuckled. "Hey, be happy! Doing it this way means I have a disability, too. I don't have good night vision either. Heh, it reminds me of a game I came up with when I was younger called _Black Bandana_. I know, shitty name, but fun nonetheless. Oh, we're gonna have to bring that back if this goes well."

"How did you play it?" Wilson asked before fully slipping off his helmet.

"It's like capture the flag in a sense but you're trying to capture a bandana from the opponent. That is, you have to subdue them or sneak up on them and steal their bandana. It can be worn anyway the player chooses; it just has to be visible. You can wear it as a headband, neckerchief, wrap it around your hand… however you want to wear it that's fine. But you get a whole arsenal and various things to help you get by in working on subduing your opponents."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, but it's only somewhat legal to play it during firework season being that your main weapons are bottle rockets and roman candles.. sparkler bombs.."

"What?! That's dangerous!"

"Whatever! You have protection! But it's mad fun!"

"Yeah, well, let's just stick to the more legal game, here."

"Sure, whatever. You ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be, I guess."

"Good! Now, go! Go!" he waved Wilson off as he pulled on his helmet and graded hold of his rifle and rushed off into the darkness with Wilson doing the same.

Playing in the dark was just as difficult as he originally thought it would be. At first Wilson was tripping over sticks and twigs and would fall into the random bush or sapling not realizing it was right in front of him. He knew he was being as loud as could be and this was made even more evident when all his senses and defenses were on high alert and were being amplified in his head proving his failure to himself. He knew it was only a short time before he was shot.

But what he didn't know was House was having the same difficulties at first. He tried on working out a system on how to determine what was in front of him and if he was going to trip and give his position away.

By this point, Wilson had hunkered down the best he could behind some shrub as he looked around for any signs of movement. He continued to scan for a minute or two around the area until his eyes caught something. He wasn't sure what it was. It could have been a poor animal for all he knew but he saw the moonlight shine against something he knew it had to be something; no animal he was familiar with was that reflective. To him it was as good a chance as any. He aimed and fired.

"Shit!" House hissed to himself when a bright glowing ball of paint whizzed by just missing hitting him in the head.

Wilson suddenly felt good about the location of his target and shot a few more rounds in that direction.

House let out a hushed yelp as one shot hit his arm with him quickly taking refuge behind a tree. He was vaguely starting to think he was had by a hustler. He could just see Wilson now in some bar trying to play meek and shy about playing pool just to come out in the end kicking everyone's ass and taking all their money. One more shot anywhere and he was dead man.

Trying his best to step as quietly as he could, Wilson imagined he was in the middle of some twisted and torn landscape in the middle of WWIII. His enemy was just beyond that ridge and he was going to rush on in there and take him out.

House knew he was in trouble. He was just a walking target now. Sure, Wilson couldn't see him at the moment since he was hiding behind a tree but that didn't mean he wouldn't have the same element of surprise as before. Not when he had this glowing splatter of paint on his arm. Great.. just great. He needed a plan and fast.

Wilson could feel his heart pounding in his chest and could hear it in his ears. He loosely wondered if anyone else would be able to hear it as well.. or that stick he just stepped on.

House knew what he had to do. He may be putting his life on the line but it was his only chance. He knew doing this meant going out in a blaze of glory was not just a possibility but likely. If he was going down his enemy was coming with him. With a deep breath, House closed his eyes tightly as if prepping himself before mustering up his courage with him jumping out from behind the tree and started shooting.

Everything happened so fast and suddenly that Wilson was able to get just one shot out before he was caught in the hail of gunfire. Being nailed with a good few hits, he clambered onto the ground and tried his best to stop the onslaught. "I'M DEAD! I'M DEAD!! PLEASE STOP SHOOTING!!" Wilson cried out in a cross between laughter and yowls of pain. House was right; there was no not realizing you were shot. Wilson pulled off his helmet with glowing paint specking his face and hair from where the paint had managed to infiltrate the helmet's many vents and breathing holes. House didn't say anything on the matter, just smiled. "Hey, you're dead, too!" Wilson pointed as the one shot he managed to get off could be plainly seen splattered against House's belly.

"We're both dead." He stated and slipped off his own helmet.

The two played in this do or die fashion until they were fresh out of ammunition and their playing field was littered with glowing splotches to just barely lit splatters and speckles. Both men were covered in the two hours worth of glowing paint; not looking to unlike some poor unlucky fools that happened to be in the middle of some nuclear waste accident.

The score came out with House on top, as expected, but Wilson did very well for a first try and was never really that far behind in the scores. After they had removed their helmets there was a good laugh or two about how their faces and hair was still littered with the slightly still glowing paint and Wilson couldn't stop laughing when House reached up and unknowingly smeared some paint against his forehead and hairline as he tried wiped away some sweat.

He laughed along with Wilson when he figured out what happened and slung an arm around his shoulders. "How you feelin'?"

"Sore." Wilson replied truthfully before adding, "And I'm sure it's going to be worse tomorrow, right?" House chuckled with a smirk and watched as Wilson reached up and rubbed his neck. "You got me right in the neck with one shot. My wife's going to think I've got a hicky and has been sleeping around." There was a small hint of uneasiness the came out with the comment, but House didn't notice it.

"You did good for a first try." he complemented.

"Well, I had a good teacher, I guess."

--

Wilson wished he could say everything was okay, that deep down inside he was as happy as could be and his life was perfect just the way it was. He knew better. He wasn't happy. He was happy when he was around House, yes. House had a thing about him that made him forget the troubles he had quietly been getting himself into. Around House he _was_ happy. It was going home was what he dreaded.

He didn't like going home because home made him feel guilty. Guilty because in the short time he had been working at PPTH and ran into House his marriage was already falling apart and to make matters worse it was his fault. Suddenly he didn't want to spend all his time with Gina as he once did years ago. He knew she could get along well enough. She may seem shy at times but was rather independent when she needed to be. She didn't need him to always be there watching and making sure everything was okay. She wasn't the same girl he met in New York; she could take care of herself.

In that short time, passionate kisses had turned to quick pecks and Wilson found himself sneaking home late at night just to avoid seeing her sad face. He felt like a fool, but this was his life. He had to make due the best he could.

He still felt like something was missing, like there was something he wasn't finding in Gina like he originally thought he did. He wanted that missing piece, that empty part of him he just couldn't put his finger on to be full. And in a desperate attempt to try and find it; Wilson stooped to his lowest point ever.

Too bad for him it didn't go unnoticed by all.

He had to look his nicest, that's what he kept telling himself. He had to look his best. "Where are you off to all spiffed up and prettied after work? Date with the wife?" a familiar voice asked after stumbling upon him while he ran a hand through his hair, hoping to get it to look better than it currently did.

Wilson didn't even bother to look at House as he kept messing with his hair. "No, I'm meeting up with someone." There was something else. House could read his friend like the back of his hand.. And there was something about this that wasn't reading right. This wasn't the first time he had seen Wilson dress up and fix himself up nice before leaving work but he couldn't put his finger on what was wrong.

He didn't say anything else on the matter; only gave a suspicious look before Leaving Wilson to his own devices.

And it wouldn't be the last time House would witness this behavior in his friend. Sometime in the next week he had seen Wilson dress himself up and even change his shirt. He had asked him again what he was up to but like before only said he was meeting someone after work. He knew for sure it wasn't Gina he was going to see being that one of these nights she had even called House trying to figure out where her husband was. Normally when Wilson couldn't be found or wasn't off doing whatever it is he had been doing he could be found in House's company. It was suspicious that he was now spending most of his time with House and was sneaking home late at night. He'd look at his watch and say something like, _Oh, It's late. I should be getting home._ Sometimes he would even follow it up with _Gina's probably worrying where I am._

It annoyed House when he did this and to show it he added, _No, she's not. She's asleep in bed like every other night thinking you're working late at the hospital like you tell her you are._ As expected, Wilson didn't take took kindly to the comment but left for home anyways. House didn't know why exactly he had said that, but he did feel a little better after getting it out. Maybe it was because he didn't know what Wilson was up to those nights he'd turn up missing. But it would be a few days later he would find out something was really starting to trouble his friend.

--

"Whoa… you should go ask Stewart if you can borrow some of her makeup. You look rough." House said suddenly after bursting into Wilson's office unannounced. Wilson looked up tiredly with bags under his eyes. "I can go track her down if you want." He pointed out the door. "I'm sure she won't mind sharing. Jeez, one look at you and no one would mind sharing." He joked playfully.

But to Wilson it was no joking matter. "I haven't been able to sleep in days."

"Insomnia?"

"No.. Well, yes."

House sat down on the couch and gave a suspicious glare. "Both?"

"It's Insomnia."

"And do you know the underlying cause?" House tilted his head and waited for the answer.

He looked up. "I know, yes."

"And?"

"I thought you didn't want to talk about _my_ problems?"

"You're right, I don't." He knew if he stayed Wilson would have gushed whatever his problem was all over him and he'd be left trying to think of a way to get out. House stood, knowing it was better to get out while he still could, and left Wilson alone to deal with his own problems.

It was later on that night he would find out just what was going on with his friend and his recent secretive behavior. Late that night there was a knock at House's apartment door. House hadn't been expecting anyone and he knew it wasn't Stacy being that she was off at some business review with some client somewhere but it was a knock he was familiar with. He opened the door finding a distraught looking James Wilson looking more ashamed than ever before as he held a leather backpack close to him and wore a less formal jacket for the cooler weather. "Can I come in?" he asked in a meek voice. House didn't object; only stood aside and closed the door behind him.

"What's up with you? You look like you've been hit by a train."

Wilson didn't look up or even acknowledge the question "Is it alright if I stay here a few days? I promise not to get in the way." His voice was still quiet.

"Yeah, sure. What happened?" House hadn't sat down since before he answered the door. He just stared befuddled at his visitor.

He heard Wilson take a deep breath before getting out, "I'm a terrible person. I'm vile and disgusting."

House furrowed his brows and continued to stare confused where he stood, his eyes narrowed. "Oookay?"

"I've been cheating on Gina."

"Oh shit." The words slipped out before he could stop them. It was then he remembered the strange occasions when Wilson would get dressed up to meet someone after work. He knew something was going on he just couldn't pin point what exactly. "Then the person you would meet up with..?"

He nodded sadly.

"How'd she find out? Did she suspect something and catch you? Or did someone else find you?"

He shook his head pitifully, "No… I, I told her."

"You _actually_ told her? What were you thinking?!" House spat out astonished.

"I felt terrible; the guilt was eating me alive! How could I do this to her? How could I betray her like this?"

"Most people with common sense would know if you want the marriage to continue you don't tell her!" he barked, but Wilson wasn't getting it.

"I had to… I couldn't have lived with myself if I hadn't." he put his hands in his face as if to try and cover his shame.

House merely nodded. "Does she want a divorce?"

His voice was muffled from his hands. "I don't know. She wanted to be alone for awhile." He stayed like that for a little bit while House went into the kitchen. Wilson pulled his hands from his mouth but kept them over his eyes. "God, I'm terrible.." he wiped his eyes.

"Well, Mr. Terrible, you want a beer?" House asked as he sat back down on the couch and held a bottle out to his friend who was hunched over in his seat on the couch. He lifted his head.

"No.. I just want to curl up and die for a little while if that's alright?"

"No, not alright. There will be no pity party on my couch! Now take this beer and shut up. You brought this on yourself in more ways than one." He took the opened beer as ordered. Wilson already knew he wasn't going to get much sympathy from House; especially when he found out he let the cat out the bag on purpose. He knew he deserved whatever was thrown at him. He took a swig of his beer. Maybe he'll feel more like making himself trashed tomorrow. "Do you want a divorce?" House asked finally.

Wilson shook his head as he stared at the floor.

"Well, you're doing a good job at getting one."

The two sat for a long while without a word. House continued to watch TV like he had been doing before his guest showed up and Wilson just sat there holding a beer and feeling like the worst husband to have ever lived. He could still hear her crying in his head.

He let out a sad sigh before House nudged him in the side with his elbow, "Come one; buck up! It's not the end of the world."

He nodded but didn't feel like believing that statement at that moment of time. "Where's Stacy, your girl?"

"She's off at some business thing, she'll be back tomorrow."

"Will she object to me staying here?"

"Probably not, but you know she'll probably see you as scum. You _did _cheat on your wife."

"..yeah." he sighed sadly, still holding on to his barely touched beer. "Can I go to sleep now?" he asked quietly. House turned his attention on Wilson as he tried to take everything in. His sad expression, tired brown eyes and overall shamed appearance. Knowing him he really did feel as bad as he looked and probably even more so. House knew how Wilson hated hurting people and hurting his wife was the worst he could possibly do at that moment.

Upon noticing that Wilson had only taken one sip from his beer he took the bottle from his hand and made it his own. "Yeah. Night, Wilson." He stood and started to make his way down the hall and to his room.

"House?"

He stopped walking.

"Hm?" he answered in mid swig.

There was a few seconds of silence before he finally got out, "Thanks."

He swallowed. "No prob." And with that he went into his room and didn't even bother to close the door.


	21. My Eyes are Green, Jealousy

---

_**CHAPTER TWENTY: **__My Eyes are Green, Jealousy_

---

In his time of shameful failure Wilson ended up staying at House's apartment for two nights before going back home to his wife. He probably would have stayed longer in a way of trying to best to put off the inevitable had he not met the person who shared the apartment with House.

Stacy.

It wasn't that he didn't like her, not at all! She was a great person to have a laugh with and hang out... he just didn't like that she was with House and it was because of this he felt something of a small dislike of her. He watched them together and as much as he didn't want to admit it, even to himself, he felt jealous. Here was the man that he still thought about and here was a woman that could keep up. She was kind but smart mouthed when she needed to be and knew how to deal with House and when to and not to take him seriously.

What made it worse was that what House now had with Stacy looked a lot like what he and House had years ago. Why leave something like that? Why leave something you have that made you happy? Why leave someone who makes you happy?

Wilson was hit with a bout of melancholy from realization from the thought. He didn't have a chance of getting back with House; not in the slightest. He was happy with a beautiful woman and she was smart and could deal with his insanity. To further prove it was how they met. The two met at a paintball tournament the hospital put together. _Doctor's vs. Lawyers_. How perfect was that?

With his tail between his legs Wilson put in the effort to make up with his wife. It was the only thing he had besides his job. He couldn't be alone. He hated the feeling of having no one there to curl up with at night.

--

After work a hungry House was sure he had seen Wilson go into the men's room. Wanting to see if his buddy felt like doing something after work he went in, but wasn't pleased by what he found.

There Wilson stood brushing his already perfect hair and straightening his tie nice and pretty. House glared. He knew this behavior. Had any other person walked in they would have thought something along the lines that Wilson just wanted to look nice, as always. But not House. He knew this. "You're doing it again," He said in a low voice, "aren't you?" He folded his arms and waited for Wilson to put down his brush and give him an answer.

Wilson didn't say anything, only looked over with a shamed expression as if saying _Yeah, you caught me._

"What is wrong with you? Just a month ago you promised your wife you wouldn't do it again." Still Wilson said nothing and made sure he had nothing stuck in his teeth. "It's not going to last." House informed him. "She's gonna divorce you because you don't deal well with the guilt and you're going to be on my couch again for another week crying about how much of a disgrace you are." For a moment House knew he looked like the concerned friend who was looking out for his buddy's best interests as well as his wife's. That wasn't what he was going for.

House wanted to think of it as he trying to get his friend to see what he was doing before he actually ruined something that was going to cause him to go crying for about a week about how much of a bad husband he was and the divorce. He didn't want to deal with that for a week. But as much as he wanted to think he was trying to warn Wilson for that reason... he wasn't.

He was jealous.

Why should Wilson go to all the trouble and bullshit of running out and meeting people he may or may not know for a late night rendezvous when House was standing around looking like the concerned friend? To House it all seemed ridiculous. Wilson may have forgotten or was just pretending to have forgotten about what they had, but really, he was sure he was right there out in the open. Surely Wilson looked his way once or twice and thought about it?

Maybe he should say something. Let the man know he was..well, open to the idea? No…no. The man was still married! But he obviously didn't seem to care about that himself, but really, what would he do about Stacy? He couldn't just cheat on her, and he wasn't going to leave her until he was sure he had something for certain. Ahh, this was annoying. Wilson wasn't going to give up his wife unless she got rid of him first.

House suddenly felt a devious idea come over him. He wouldn't tell the Missus that her Mister was cheating again.. no, that would be cruel and unusual.. He could just pester Wilson and hint him in ways that weren't blatantly obvious that would get his guilt going wild that would get him to tell his wife that he was cheating again. Sure, he'd had to deal with a sad and depressed Wilson on his couch again, but hey, think about all the fun he could have later if this all worked like how he had it planned in his head.

Okay, so maybe that was cruel and unusual, but that was House. He was used to doing whatever he could to get what he wanted. He would just have to hope that Wilson didn't catch on to what he was up to.

Oh the fun he was going to have during these next few days!


	22. What Are You Trying to Do to Me?

_**CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: **__What Are You Trying to Do to Me?_

---

Sure enough and true to plan, House started his day at work with a sharp remark to his buddy asking how the day for Dr. Panty-Peeler had been going so far. Wilson ignored the comment but House saw it did hit home; just where he was aiming for. He was also able to get a good push in before lunch talking rather loudly to one of his underlings about their current patient and how much of a "cheating bastard" he was. He knew Wilson had just walked into the room. House could feel himself enjoying this torture he was putting his buddy through. That wasn't right..not right at all.

They made it through lunch without a word on the subject of infidelity or cheating bastards. House was supposed to be being discreet! He could spout something on the subject every chance he got, but then Wilson would certainly catch on to something. He had to be cunning and sneaking as a snake ready to strike at its meal that sat unsuspecting on a rock nearby.

Sneaky…that really should have been House's middle name, not Sean. In his mind he tried to set a goal for himself. What seemed like a decent goal for ripping your friend's soul to shreds and guilt him into telling his wife he had been cheating? Wow..didn't sound so hot after he thought about it like that but he had to do what had to be done. Wilson was going to tell his wife and that was that.

He had no say in the matter.. not that he was going to get the idea that there was a matter in the first place.

_Think cunning, Greg, cunning…_

He set his goal for tomorrow night. Sure he knew that was really cutting it close, but Greg had done a lot worse in a shorter amount of time in the past and this was no different. He could do this. Tomorrow night Wilson was going to be a pathetic mess and asking for a place to stay. He just hoped he wasn't so much a mess that he depressed everyone in the apartment.

There was nothing worse than being depressed over something that wasn't even your problem.

--

Keeping in mind that he was supposed to be cunning, House didn't say another thing on the subject at hand until they were stretched out on the leather couch at his apartment. House leaned back and glanced over at Wilson. The man looked relax enough but he knew better. He knew Wilson was just going crazy inside.

Time to push a little harder.

"So, Jimmy, tell me. When you run off at night for your..late night rendezvous, are you sleeping with the same person, or is it a new face each time?" House took a perverse pleasure in seeing the look of absolute discomfort hit Wilson's face as his calm revelry was quickly smashed with the sledge hammer that was House's sharp tongue.

He pulled his hands to his face trying to hide the shame in his eyes. "Don't." Wilson let out as a plea, but House was out for blood, he wasn't going to give up _that _easily. Wilson should have known better than that.

House sat forward, leaning in closer. "Inquiring minds want to know!" He said with a hint of glee in his voice.

"Please, just leave it."

"Oh, come on, Jimmy, saying it out loud won't change anything, it'll just-"

"My God!!" Wilson tossed his hands in the hair before shooting up from his spot on the couch and grabbed his coat. "Just fuck off, will you?!" and with that he rushed out the door without a goodbye; not that House wanted one. Sure, he was being harsh and border-lining on vicious but he was enjoying himself. In a sense, this was his way of getting back at Wilson for going out and running off at night with everyone else but him.

_It won't be long now._ House thought to himself with a smile. _Not long at all._

"Well, what has he done to piss you off?"

"em?" He glanced up to see Stacy giving him a curious but concerned look.

He stretched out, bringing his legs up on the couch as he grabbed the remote. He tried to hide the sudden bit of annoyance that hit him (not from Stacy's question but from Wilson). "Oh, I have my reasons."

"I'm sure you do, and I bet they even seem logical in that head of yours."

"It is very logical." He tried to find the TV Guide.

She nodded, but still didn't sit down. She had work to do on this case she was dealing with. "Care to share?"

House stopped and made a thoughtful expression before shaking his head. "Na, prob'ly not for the best." It was all purely for show. He knew he couldn't tell her what he was up to, then he'd be just like Wilson telling his wife that he had been cheating. No, he hadn't cheated on Stacy, but he was sure hearing that your boyfriend wanted to sleep with his best friend from med school wasn't going to be good for the relationship.

Not by a long shot.

Once finding the TV Guide, House tried to ignore her gaze until she left the room to get back to work.

--

The next day House was kept busy with a patient so his daily torture for his friend had to be put on hold for a few hours. And besides, his next question really wasn't something he could ask in the middle of nurses, doctors, or patients. Wilson would really be pissed at him. Sure he wanted him pissed.. but not really at him, just at himself.

Man, this whole thing still didn't sound as great as he originally thought, no matter how he worded it.

But that didn't mean he was regretting anything, no sir! Nor was he feeling any guilt himself over it, no way! This was the Great Gregory House we're talking about here! The man who prided himself on keeping control of his emotions! Yeah, he wasn't feeling anything, or at least that's what he told himself. Maybe he just wasn't aware…what was he talking about? He wasn't feeling guilty! No.. now, where was Wilson? Maybe he was back in his office?

He had been running around checking on patients the last time he tried to find him. Like mentioned before, what he had to asked was really for Wilson's ears only.

Quickly, he made his way over to the office next door, and without a knock, in true House fashion; he threw the door open and leaned in. "Are you here, yet?"

The pair of brown eyes looking up at him from behind the wooden desk told him his answer. He closed the door behind him as he made his way over to the chair in front of the desk and stretched back, and pushed off Wilson's desk with his long legs, pushing the chair's front legs off the floor as he rocked back and forth, making sure not to push far enough to lose his balance and collapse backwards. He knew the experience personally, and he really didn't feel like giving Wilson such a good laugh at the moment. Not with what he had to ask.

House also knew he couldn't just outright spit the question out like he wanted to. That's not cunning and sneaky.. that's just loud and obvious. Bad. What to talk about, then? "How's your patients?"He knew he deserved the strange look from Wilson. What was he doing asking about patients? He didn't care about them, especially when they weren't his.

"Doing as well as they can..and yours?"

"Not dying at the moment. So, I guess, good." He shrugged. This was stupid.

Wilson put down his pen. "So, what are you really here about?" House knew he could just get it over with and ask, but like he knew that wasn't how thing had to work, or even allowed to work. No, he couldn't do that! Why did he always get mixed up when he wanted to talk about something but knew he could plow right into it from the very start?

What to talk about?

He could have some good fun and start to complement the hell out of Wilson. Talk about confused! He could see it now!

_Your hair looks nice today._

_Your cologne, is it new? It smells absolutely wonderful on you._

_Wow, that suit your wearing today..it really looks good on you. _

_You have the cutest brown eyes I've ever seen. _

_Gawd, you look fucking gorgeous today!_

_Smile like that again and I might have to throw you over that desk and have some fun._

Oh, he could see Wilson blushing fiercely and shuddering as he tried to say thank you but would be surprised and startled by House adding yet another something nice to say. Oh, if he could do all thing things he wanted to do to Wilson (not in a sexual way, just fun), gosh, he'd never be bored again.

"What you doin' after work?" House asked, trying to look like he really didn't care.

Wilson worked on something in front of him, but answered, nonetheless. "Nothing, why, you want me to come over?"

"If you want." There was a small fit of silence before he knew he had to say something. He might as well get it over with. "You know, there's a question that's been bugging me the past while. In the time you've been married, how many people have you slept with?" But just as the words left his mouth, he head Wilson let out a loud breath.

"HOUSE! What are you trying to do to me, huh? Are you _trying_ to make me feel like the most worthless and undeserving piece of shit that's ever lived?" That hurt and confused expression stared hard at the man sitting across from him. Maybe that wasn't as skillfully added as he had originally hoped. Maybe Wilson would take it too personally.

"No, never, Jimmy." There was a sarcasm to his words that Wilson was too frustrated to pick-up on.

"Okay! Fine, Yes! I've slept with a few people! Are you happy now? For you I now feel like the worse person that's ever lived!!"

Did Wilson just..?

"What?" House let out before he could stop himself. Did Wilson just say that he was doing this stuff because of him?

Wilson glared, "What do you mean, _what_? I tell you that I have been sleeping around with more people then I'm comfortable with, and saying it out loud, admitting it doesn't make me fell any better, makes me feel like shit! I'm cheating on my wife and she thinks I've changed my ways! That I'm actually trying to work past this for her! Dammit, I wish that were true, I wish I could, but I can't!"

Apparently he wasn't. He was just guilt stricken about admitting it.

Damn.

"House..please, please. I need you to leave, I need to think."

For once, House didn't have anything witty or sarcastic to spit back. No, he knew when it was his time to leave, and when it was Wilson saying he needed to think on the very thing he had been trying to get him to really thing about for the past two days and so on, well, he definitely wasn't going to stop him from doing so. House left with a somber nod and tried to hide the spring in his step.

He didn't see Wilson the rest of the day.

But that night House did up getting his wish and knew this to be true when Wilson showed up at his doorstep like he had a month before asking for a place to stay. He tried for once to tip toe around the subject but ended up asking if this time the missus was going to take him back, or if it was final.

"No, it's done, She wants a divorce..not that I blame her. I wish I could divorce myself, too."

What a way to spend a Friday night, you and your buddy drinking all the beer in the apartment you would..wait, what a way to spend a Friday! Yeah! But it was the heavy weighted feeling of why they felt compelled to drink themselves silly that seemed to drain the _Hell Yeah_ from the evening. Neither of them talked about why they were drinking nor did they want to. Wilson just wanted to forget for a while, and House didn't want to bring it up now that his job with the whole ordeal was done and over with. Wilson would have to deal with this on his own.

When the night became older and it was time of all sane people to get to bed, House said his good nights to Wilson who just seemed to mumble something in coherently in return as he lay half comatose already on the sofa while he made his way to the bedroom where Stacy had already gone to sleep a few hours earlier. It was near that time House had changed from his jeans to the more comfortable sleeping attire. He knew Wilson wouldn't mind and he really didn't care if he did. This was his apartment. If he wanted to change his clothes and be comfortable for a long night of drinking, then he had no say in the matter.

"Jimmy boy's gonna be staying for a while, if that's alright." He told her as he pulled on a pair of pajama pants.

She got into her side of the bed. "Oh, no. what's wrong?"

"Little Jimmy struck again, and now he's out one wife. She wasn't happy with her husband's inability to chance his devious ways, so she wants a divorce."

"Well, I can't say I blame her."

House shrugged. He tried to play indifferent, but he knew if Wilson was doing this to him, he'd want to divorce the bastard, too. He had better not pull this shit if he did work everything how he wanted.

--

As much as House loved having Wilson around and living in the apartment (even if it he had taken over the couch and it was awkward that Stacy was around more since she was going to be leaving for New York for a convention within the next day or two), House didn't like Wilson moping around all sad and depressed. So, he lost a wife, big deal. He should be happy! If Wilson didn't do anything stupid for the next while House could get everything all worked out and thing could be like they once were.. If he could even get Wilson to remember the way things used to be.

In the living room, Wilson was sitting sadly on the couch like he had been most of the day. House knew he had to do something; He couldn't let Wilson get him and everything else down. "Hey, you need to stop being all depressed on my couch; it's making the lamp sad." He noted as he sat down on the couch next to his sad friend.

"What, You lamp is worried about my well being?"

"Pfft!" House scoffed loudly, "No, it's worried about the couch's well being! Stop making my lamp sad!!"

Wilson didn't know what House was talking about. Had he finally gone that extra little bit to become absolutely insane? "Are you kicking me out?"

But House sighed and shook his head. He didn't say that; not in the slightest. He thought he was being rather clear. "No, I'm telling you not to be all sad and depressed on my couch."

"And how do I do that, huh? My wife just left me-"

"Because you were being an ass and was cheating on her." He interrupted with a cheeky smile.

Wilson hated that smile. It normally meant he was proud he just slapped his friend in the face with his quick words. "I know why she left; I don't need to be reminded. Thank you."

"Looks like we need to do something to get you out of this slump you're stuck in…" he trailed off before his expression lightened up, almost as if a light bulb had just turned on. "Vegas!"

"Vegas…" he repeated, not even thinking about what the word meant in any way. "Vegas..?" House nodded. "What about it?"

"How do you deal with road trips?"

"As good as anyone, I guess. Why? You want to take a road trip to Vegas?"

"You wanna take one?" House could see the intrigue in his eyes.

The idea was tempting. Wilson hadn't taken a trip in a long while, and it would certainly bring up his mood from Gina. "Is Stacy going?" He wanted to know. Cause really? Who wanted to go on a trip with your best friend and his girl in close quarters when you just divorced your own wife?

"Nope, she'll be on some business trip in New York. So it'll just be you and me. A trip for us men!"

The more Wilson heard the more tempting it sounded. He hadn't been to Vegas yet. It was probably loads of fun.

"We can also hit the fun places on the way. You know, Atlanta, New Orleans, Houston..."

It was really sounding good now. Really good. He sat there quietly staring at his feet as he mulled the idea around in his head. It would be fun, loads of fun. Running around the country with House… he vaguely wondered how much trouble they could get themselves into. It was too good of a deal to pass up.

He was going to do it.

"If we can get off at the same time I'll go."

"Great!" quickly, House snatched up his phone and immediately dialed Cuddy's number. Wilson already knew she wasn't going to appreciate the call being that it was 2:30 in the morning.

But that was House; always a barrel of surprises.


	23. Vegas, Here We Come!

---

_**CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO:**__ Vegas, Here We Come!_

---

With his skills of talking Cuddy into nearly anything and the late hour on his side (With Cuddy being nearly fully asleep when agreeing), House managed to get the both of them two weeks off starting the following day. Things were going perfectly. After some deliberation, the two decided instead of driving, they would fly to Vegas and spend a week there and drive back.

After getting off the phone with Cuddy, House wasted no time in calling the airport to book a flight from Newark to Las Vegas as well a few more calls for reservations here and there. Wilson on the other hand was starting to find the couch was calling his name. Just as he grabbed hold of a nearby blanket and pillow and settle down for some sleep a little raincloud was ready to attack.

"Go get packed. We need to be at the airport by five-thirty so we don't miss our flight." House nearly said in a singsong matter; so happy to finally be off the phone.

Sleepy brown eyes opened with a glare as he sat up and grabbed his watch off the coffee table. "Wait.. what?" Wilson did a double take on his watch. "5:30? House! That's in an hour! You expect me to pack enough for two weeks and be ready to go to the air port in an hour? What about sleep?"

"You can sleep on the plane. The plane is scheduled to leave at 6:07 and land in Vegas at 9:15. You get three hours."

"And packing?"

"What you forget we can buy again in Vegas."

"Isn't there any later flights?"

"Don't you even think about it! You're getting on that plane even if I have to drag you on there with no luggage!" he warned with Wilson rolling his eyes as a result. He was tempted to just roll over to get some sleep, but he knew better than to not take his threats lightly. He wouldn't be surprised if House drugged him and tossed him in a suitcase and put him on the plane.

House's spontaneous trip planning was starting to wear on his nerves. "I'm sorry if I like to be prepared!" he spat, trying to pull his tired body up from the couch.

"Being prepared is one thing, packing like a girl, well…that's another story."

"What?! I do _not_ pack like a girl!! Just because I like to have more than three shirts and a pair of pants for a two week vacation does not mean I pack like a girl!"

House glanced over at Wilson with a grin. "Whatever you say, Jenny." Wilson opened his mouth to spit something right back, but quickly changed his mind and opted to biting his tongue. This was House. The only way to stop his insane pestering wasn't to fight back; that was only adding fuel to the fire.

If there was one thing Wilson had learned the first time around House was how to put up with him. This was just one of the things he had learned to put up with.

--

Standing in the Continental Airline ticket line Wilson was sure he had left a million things he would have needed, but there was a good side to all this. In the early hours of morning the line wasn't that long, but there was something on his mind that he was curious about.

"How did you pay for the tickets?" Wilson asked curiously as they stopped at the ticket desk.

House didn't even look at him when he answered, "I gave them your credit card."

"You _what_?!" Wilson barked with the lady in front of them turning her head to the two with House quickly shooting her a glare to mind her own business. She did so with no complaints, but it wasn't easy for a person to try and ignore a hysterical man who's starting to freak out right behind you in line. "What the hell, House?! You did it not occur to you to _ask_ before you used my card?"

House rolled his eyes as Wilson started his bickering. Really, could the man be any more predictable?

"Why is it that I have to pay for everything? You always go on about me being a doctor, but what about you? Last I checked you were _Doctor_ Greg House."

Before Wilson could get another word out, House quickly put an end to his fussing. "Gawd, can you possibly be _more_ annoying?"

"You used my credit card to buy plane tickets-"

"For a trip that you're going on!" he pointed out quickly in his defense.

But to him that wasn't the point, "That still doesn't mean you can use one of my-"

"Ughh! I was joking! I bought the damn tickets! Now stop trying to lecture me about asking first before I get arrested for assault!" he nearly shouted with the woman in front of them still fighting the urge to turn around and see what was going on.

"You could have picked a better thing to joke about." The oncologist grumbled in return as he folded his arms, waiting for the woman in front of them to be done with the clerk.

"Well, you could have a better sense of humor, but I guess we just can't have everything, now can we?" now being next in line the two approached the counter where a tall woman with black hair in a dark navy blue uniform smiled.

"Welcome to the Continental desk, how may I help you this morning?" She chimed sweetly with a smile that seemed to try to light up anyone's tired and gloomy morning.

House gave her a skeptical look. "Yes, Dr. Greg House, I bought some tickets to Vegas this morning."

She immediately started to type on the keyboard at a speed that made Wilson dizzy. "Ahh, yes, I'm showing here we have you down for a ticket to LAS leaving at 6:07 on flight 203."

"Yep, that's me." Suddenly, House pulled on his most charming self to speak to the woman dealing with issuing the tickets. "Oh, and one more thing, is there any chance I can be issued another seat so I don't have to sit next to this loser on the plane?" He pointed to Wilson who stood at his side. "I'd like to enjoy myself this trip."

"O-of course," she answered a little taken back by the unexpected request with her sunny disposition turning unsure. It didn't help the fact that this man had just called his associate a loser nearly to his face.

But Wilson was always trying to smooth things out because of his friend's blatant disregard for everyone else. "He's joking, you don't have-"

"I'm not joking; I don't want to be nagged the whole three hours to Vegas!" Desperate to avoid any confrontation; the clerk quickly asked if House wanted his new seating to be a window seat. He declined. "Anything not next to him is fine."

"Oh, and what am I supposed to do?" Wilson butted in once again.

House gave his thanks to the clerk as he took his ticket before turning around to answer the question. "I'm sure you can figure something out." He gave Wilson a smirk and a playful wink before heading off to the terminal. House didn't have to look back to know that his friend was steaming.

--

Wilson sighed as he shoved his bag in the overhead compartment and slumped down in his seat. He didn't know where House had run off to but it seemed he hadn't gotten on the plane yet. Then again, why should that matter to him anyway? The man had just been a complete jerk and changed seats for no good reason. If this was how things were going to be he couldn't imagine how bad things were before they even left the ground; he didn't even want to know how things were going to be when they actually touched ground in Vegas.

A man sat down in the empty seat next to him. It only made things that more real. Sitting next to the window he lifted the blind to get a peek at the vast concrete ocean that was the runway. "Bastard." He mumbled to himself before closing the blinds back. He wondered when a stewardess was going to come by. He wondered if he could get a pillow..or maybe a blanket. That would be nice.

He let out another yawn and settled back in his seat for a nap when someone caught his attention. It wasn't the stewardess like he had hoped for but the bastard himself whispering something to the man sitting next to him.

After a quick nod from the stranger, he stood and made his way farther up the plane, with House taking his place. Wilson felt his spirit pick up immediately. He couldn't explain it.

House was like crack.

But that didn't mean he was going to let him know that. "So, you're going to sit next to this loser the whole three hours to Vegas?"

House shrugged uninterested. "I know how you can't stand to be away from me and besides," he glanced over toward Wilson, who seemed to be paying the utmost attention, "they had me sitting next to some kid."

"Going to Vegas? Was he by himself?" he asked curiously.

House shot his friend a look. "I don't know; I wasn't going to talk to it! Gawd, I'm not you, Jimmy!" he dramatically folded his arms and turned his attention elsewhere, which just happened to be the stewardess walking by. "Hey, does this flight come with alcohol? Bourbon?"

"Of course, sir." Before she was able to walk off Wilson managed to ask about a pillow. She didn't take long. "Here you are gentleman; I hope you enjoy your flight and movie."

"Oh, what's playing?" Wilson asked even though he was sure he was going to sleep through it.

"_Liar, Liar_."

House let out a groan, "Thank God for alcohol." And with that took a large gulp of his drink.

After pushing his chair back with his head comfortably settled on a pillow, Wilson stretched and turned his attention back to House, who seemed quite content with his glass of bourbon. "So, what did you tell the guy to get this seat?"

House glanced over to Wilson with a smiled, "I told him you were deathly afraid of flying and that I was your therapist."

He shook his head. "Great, another person now thinks I'm crazy because of you."

"It's all in a day's work, Jimmy boy!"

Wilson closed his eyes and let out another yawn. "Of course.. always looking for a way to make me the fool." And with that and the sounds of the plane gearing up for takeoff, Wilson amazingly managed to fall sleep.


	24. Vegas: Where Anything is Possible

_**CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE:**_ _Vegas: Where anything is possible_

---

Wilson didn't remember his dream if he had one; the only thing he could remember was the feeling of an elbow being repeatedly jammed in his ribs. "Hey, get up sleeping beauty! We've arrived in heaven!" a particularly chipper voice announced.

Still in a sleepy daze, Wilson let out a yawn but just as he opened his eyes he was greeted by a pair of bright excited blue ones and simply added, "Wait, you don't belong here."

"What, you think I'm better suited for hell?" he didn't even have to answer; his knowing stare said it for him. "Yeah, well, whatever. What I meant to say is we're in heaven on earth! Now get up and let's go!" feeling no reason to just sit on an airplane,, Wilson did as he was told and stood up before remembering to grab his bag from the overhead compartment. It didn't take long before they were standing in the luggage claims area and were waiting for their things to come by.

All Wilson could think about was sleep.

"God, I'm so fucking tired." He groaned to himself. He really didn't know why he was so tired. Wilson wouldn't have been surprised if House told him he had slipped something in his drink. Actually, he would have been relieved. He would know why he was so tired. He glanced over to the friend and found that bright smile still there. For some odd reason it suddenly annoyed Wilson. "How are you so perky? Do you not need sleep to live?"

House only laughed as he continued to watch the various pieces of unfamiliar luggage travel around in circles waiting to be claimed. "Not when Vegas is involved!" He yelped in excitement with Wilson rolling his eyes. "Okay, okay." He reasoned, "How's this sound, we can go to the hotel and check in. You can sleep; I can have fun in the casino downstairs! It's a win win!!"

Wilson was absolutely perplexed at House's _extremely_ good mood. He wasn't sure he could remember the last time he had seen the man this excited. Along with drinking House must love gambling or whatever else Vegas had to offer. He could only hope it wasn't something too… insane.

"Yeah," he agreed with a yawn. "We need to drop our luggage anyway." It suddenly occurred to him that he didn't know anything about where they were staying. House must have had something in mind being that he talked about a casino downstairs. Wilson grabbed one of his bags off the conveyer belt. "So, where are we staying? Did you make reservations somewhere?"

"Trying to see if I was stupid enough to book a trip to Vegas and forget the hotel?"

Wilson scoffed, "No, I just want to know where we're going to be staying. You seem to already have a place in mind."

"Ahh, and that I do! We're staying in luxury itself! We're staying at _The Mirage_!"

"The sooner we get there the better." He said with another yawn. "Where's a taxi?"

--

The taxi ride was as pleasant as any taxi ride was. The two didn't say much as Wilson was nearly starting to be lulled back to sleep by the ride until everything came to a halt and it seemed he had only closed his eyes for a minute, and the next he was standing in the middle of a beautiful hotel lobby holding into his luggage with a grip that someone would have thought he was carrying around a million dollars. Nope, only his clothes (which he was thankful made it to Vegas without getting lost or misplaces by the airline).

While he stood awkwardly and tiredly he waited for House to be done with the friendly looking fellow behind the counter. A few minutes seemed to pass by and Wilson found that his eyes had closed without him realizing it. He opened them wide and tried to keep himself awake. "Come on, House. It's simple. You tell him you have a reservation, he looks down at his book… *yawn* …he finds your name and gives you the key and tells you what floor it's on." He muttered to himself. All he knew was that if House didn't finish up soon he was going to find something he could sleep on in this lobby.

Soon after he watched as the man handed House two key cards and said something along the lines of _it's a pleasure to have you here. Enjoy your stay at The Mirage._

What Wilson wasn't expecting was that Cheshire cat grin that just screamed _I did something and you're not going to like it._ The typical mischievous Housian smile. Wilson didn't even have to ask what he had done. "Okay, I've got good news and some news that isn't necessarily bad, but not the best of news to you. So I've got good news and blah news." House slipped one of the key cards into Wilson's shirt pocket as he gave his news options.

"Blah news?" Wilson was too tired to really play.

House nodded as he picked up his large duffle bag and managed to snatch Wilson's suit case form his death grip as he started to walk in the direction of the elevators. Wilson, needless to say, followed. "I got our room upgraded from a normal hotel room to one of the Mirage Suites." House explained.

But even as sleepy as he was Wilson could still manage to add his two cents. "Okay, that's obviously the good news. What's wrong with it? Is the hotel's sign covering the window? Or is it under construction?"

"It's only got one bed, but it's totally worth it."

Before House even managed to get another word out, Wilson tossed in, "It's mine! I claim it! I do whatever dance I need to that says I win and get the bed! And besides, you don't need sleep as far as Vegas is concerned."

"Yeah, yeah, very funny." He brushed Wilson's announcement of claiming the bed as if it never happened. "But some semi good news is that it's a king sized bed… so it's a hug bed. Holds two easy. Hell, holds three easy." Over his earlier outburst on claiming the bed, Wilson didn't say anything else on the matter, he was too tired to even deal with that. In fact, he wasn't too sure what was going on in the first place.

--

House was right; the suite was worth the one bed. There was so much space to do as they pleased; there was even a piano in the room and a luxurious bathroom with one of those tubs with the water jets. In a nearly fully asleep haze, Wilson told himself he'd have to have a nice relaxing bath later that night and try to wash off as much stress as he could from home. Before House could even show him the bar, the man had dropped his bag in the middle of the floor before collapsing onto the large bed still fully dressed.

The other doctor wrinkled his nose at the sight. "Hey, I don't care about you sleeping in all your clothes, but at least take your shoes off in the bed." The sleepy fellow let out a groan but didn't move. House sighed and shook his head. "Aren't you supposed to be the neat freak here?"

--

When Wilson woke up for the second time that day he found himself in a beautiful suite that took him a few moments to remember that he and House were in Vegas. He wondered if he would have to go looking for him down in the hotel's casino. Slowly, Wilson sat up and stretched. He didn't know what time it was but after that good long nap he felt great. Now to find-

"Good, you're up. I was starting to get bored."

Wilson had jumped at the sudden broken silence and turned to the voice only to find House still dressed in his jeans and t-shirt and a pair of socks (unlike Wilson, who was still in his shoes, he had remembered to take them off) stretched out on one side of the bed staring at the ceiling. "Gah… you scared the shit out of me." Wilson finally said after his heart seemed to slow down a little. "I thought you were going downstairs to terrorize everyone in the casino."

"Na," He let his head fall to the side as he stared lazily at his friend. "It's more entertaining when you've got someone to enjoy it with."

"So, what's up? You got anything planed for us to do, Mr. Travel Agent?" House only smiled before turning his attention back to the ceiling. But that didn't mean Wilson couldn't pitch in an idea or two. "Hey, Siegfried and Roy are downstairs; we can go meets some White tigers if you want."

He shook his head. "Na, I don't feel like tigers right now. You?"

"No, not really."

House sat up and tossed his legs over the side of the bed. "Then it's agreed. No tigers." Wilson watched as the older doctor grabbed his shoes and started to put them on. "I've got a better Idea than tigers and since you're still dressed; allow me to put on my shoes and we can be on our way."

More with the surprises. "Where are we going?"

"You'll see."

Wilson stood and looked around for a mirror. "God, I probably look terrible. I bet my hair looks a mess."

House shook his head in disbelief. "You look fine; just run a brush through it or something."

--

It didn't take long for Wilson to learn what the surprise was. Once they were downstairs and into a taxi, it was made obvious where they were off to. "_Studio 54_."

"WHAT? _Studio 54_?!" he yelped in surprise before he realized something else. "Err.. Wait, isn't that in New York?"

"The original was but it closed a few years ago." House answered calmly.

But Wilson wasn't so sure of all of this.. Wasn't that place bad news? "Why are we going there?"

"I want to see if it's anything like the original."

"You've been to the original _Studio 54_?!"

But the only answer he got was a wink and a maybe. Normally Wilson would be able to tell if House was lying or not about something like this but it was just too extravagate to really know. He could remember hearing about the club having a very strict door policy, hell, even Frank Sinatra was denied entry. Who the hell denies Frank Sinatra anything?! If House were anyone else he would have laughed and told them they were lying, but that man could weasel in way into anything. It suddenly didn't seem so unlikely that he might have somehow made his way into the said club.

But it turned out that things weren't going to go as planned and the two wouldn't be able to see if the club was anything like its New York original. And it all boiled down to one simple reason.

They weren't even going to be allowed through the door. Turned out the dress code was pretty strict and nothing other than club wear was allowed. Simply meaning the jeans the two wore were out of the question. After being rejected from the night club's doorman (which pleased Wilson to no end) the two decided a nearby bar would made a fine substitute.

For a good few hours the two joked and laughed about many different things and House even nearly got pulled into a fight for laughing so loudly at the awkward sound and cross between laughing and agony that Wilson let out when a previous bit of laughter sent the alcohol he just swallowed shooting out his nose and stinging the whole way.

It was times like these the two seemed to have their most fun. Just being able to bullshit and laugh always seemed to bring them closer together but even they knew when it was time to give, and it was triggered by the gambling bug giving the doctor a bite to play.

"Hey!" House pushed Wilson's shoulder, nearly sending the man falling from his chair. "Le'z go back to the hotel.. I wanna play some poker or something'." He drew out drunkenly with some of his words smashing together.

That was fine to Wilson; the casino sounded like a damn good plan to him. "Yeah!" He barked before remembering a rule that was never to be forgotten while your friend was drunk. "You!" Wilson laughed loudly as he turned back to House. "I don't think you.." he pointed, "..are good to drive. Gimme your keys." He reached out his hand, as if waiting for his friend to actually pull the keys from his pocket. Wilson was apparently stupid when drunk.

House rolled his eyes. "Well, _you_ aren't either!" he pointed out. "Give me _your_ keys." The brown eyed doctor was about to give protest when it occurred to him that it really didn't matter if House had his keys or not. He didn't have his car. With a shrug, he did as he was told and handed the keys over to friend.

Suddenly he didn't even know why he even bothered to ask. "Someone has to drive!" he yelped with House nodding in agreement. Wilson sat there trying to think of what they could do, but by the look on his face, House thought he was most probably thinking harder than he really should.

"Le'z walk. I mean, we're not _that_ far from the hotel, right?" After a small debate that went on in Wilson's mind, it was agreed that the safest way back would be walking. Neither of them had a car to drive and neither of them knew the bus route nor did they remember about Taxis.

But it wasn't ten minutes into their drunken walk to the hotel that someone noticed them. Neither man was aware anything was out of the ordinary until a cop car pulled up on the curb next to them. Wilson immediately turned to House. "What did you do?!"

"Wha? I.. I didn't do anything!" He hissed back in a whisper to his friend. "Why is it always _my _fault when something happens?"

"Because it normally is!" he fussed in a hushed whisper as the uniform cop approached them.

"Act natural, we didn't do anything." House tried to console his flustered buddy as he tossed an arm around his shoulders.

"Where are you two gentlemen off to?" The officer asked as he stood directly in their path.

The two stopped their quiet chattering at the officer's question. Needless to say there was a tension that immediately filled the air. And to make matters worse, Wilson was never good in these situations when drunk. "We're off to Greg's..House!" he spat out and immediately started to laugh. House even gave a chuckle before knocking his friend in the side with his elbow.

"It would help if I actually owned a house, wouldn't it, Jimmy?"

The cop watched the two. "You two been drinking?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"We're in Vegas! Of course!" House barked, seemingly not really caring about anything but the fellow whose shoulders he had his arm around. The two were just lucky this cop had no intentions to bringing them to jail for being drunk in public. They were just drunk and looked a little lost.

"Do you have somewhere you can go? I can't leave the two of you drunk walking the streets."

"Officer, we're not drunk," Wilson broke in; nervous, "we only had little to drink."

"Jimmy, you drunk! Stop perjuring yourself!" House let out annoyed, already forgetting he had already told the cop that they had been drinking.

"So what hotel are the two are you staying? Do the two of you need a ride there?"

"We're at the… it's the thing.. You see it, but it's not really there?"

"Oh?" The officer let out, lost to what had suddenly come out of the younger doctors mouth.

"He means _The Mirage_; I think that's what it's called."

"Yeah, _The Mirage_! Yeah.." Wilson tried off and nodded absently.

The officer arched his brow. "What are your names?"

"I'm Dr. James Wilson, and he's-"

"I'm Dr. Greg House." He cut in, feeling drunk or not, he didn't need help introducing himself.

"Ahh, Greg's House. Makes sense now." The officer commented at doctor's earlier made joke. It was obvious that both men were drunk but it seemed Wilson was more so than House. "Well, doctors, I can give you two a ride to _The Mirage_. It's plain to see than the two of you have been drinking and it would be safer for you and everyone else for the two of you to be back at your hotel. You two want a ride? Or can you call someone else to come get you?"

"We can take the ride.. We don't know anyone else here in Vegas.." Wilson thought aloud.

But House didn't like the idea at all; it just didn't seem to sit right with him. "Don't consent to that, Jimmy! You're gonna get us put in jail!"

"Sir, relax," He officer once again tried to explain himself. "You're not going to jail. I'm just going to deliver the two of you safely to your hotel, that's all. No Jail." This wasn't his first time dealing with the drunken.

"Oh.. Okay. That's fine." House finally agreed, but not without a suspicious look as the cop ushered them to the car and into the backseats. The ride back to the hotel was a very quiet one, both men desperate not to say a thing that might get them in to trouble, but once they got there and were released from the officer care the chaos quickly began to ensue once again.

Once they stepped into the casino of _the Mirage_ it seemed that the gambling bug had sunken its teeth into the more cautious of the two doctors. "I wanna play some Blackjack!" and with that, Wilson was suddenly rushing off to the nearest blackjack table and pulling out his wallet. House followed not wanting to miss watching his friend lose all his cash. He watched as Wilson tossed five-hundred dollars out on the felt table and waited for the dealer to exchange it for chips.

Turned out that House's first prediction of Wilson losing all his money was a very poor one, because in the short time of thirty minutes and some very bold and hefty bets later, Wilson was feeling like one lucky son of a bitch. He had gone from $500.00 to $3250.00. He was on top of the world and he was staring to get a small audience at his table.

House tossed his arm around Wilson's shoulders and laughed. "Damn, Jimmy! You're hot when it comes to Black Jack! We might have to start brining you to Atlantic City during the weekends from now on!"

"Hit me!"

It was amazing that Wilson was able to put as much attention as he was into the game. He and House had been out on the town before being escorted back to the hotel and hadn't really stopped drinking since. Too drunk to care about what anyone thought, Wilson had now switched his drink of choice from beer to his more favorable _Sex on the Beach_ and didn't care about House's laugher and comments about it being a girly drink.

He was working on three different hands. He lost a little but in return won a lot. If he wasn't drunk, his cautious nature would never allow him to toss in these hefty bets. When he managed to get it up to over five grand, House's curiosity started to act up. "What do you plan on doing with your winnings, Jimmy?"

"I plan on buying you a muzzle!" he laughed jokingly with House laughing along as well as he knocked his head against Wilson's.

It turned out that brown eyed doctor's luck was running in more than just cards, because before he knew it while House was laughing at yet another something he leaned his weight against the lucky man. This in itself was fine; Wilson could deal with it. It was when House brushed his cheek against his chin that things started to veer off course. When Wilson felt that rough stubble rub against his face a long forgotten spark quickly got his attention. Curious brown eyes looked at his friend and were greeted with those lustful blue eyes he remembered from long ago. Seems House was thinking the same thing. With his head suddenly in the clouds, Wilson put a stop to his games and started shoving his winnings into his pockets as well as House's with a full $5450.00 dollars worth of chips between them.

The trip back up to their suite was a slightly awkward one as Wilson held to an armful of casino chips with House holding to a few himself. Neither man tried anything in the elevator being that at the last moment someone else had stepped on with them but House managed to keep close and Wilson was sure he could feel those eyes on him.

Once the doors opened for their floor the two stepped out the elevator, but it was the feeling of casino a few chips just ready to slip out of his grasp that had Wilson walking at a fast pace. Any attempt to try and reposition or grab a better hold of them and he was sure to drop his whole armful. House on the other hand didn't feel the need to rush. They were both going to the same place and not to mention that they had all night for whatever they wanted to do. He could take his time if he pleased.

Amazingly, Wilson had somehow managed to use his key card on the door without dropping a single chip as he pushed his way into the suit. He stood near a table as he managed to move all he was holding onto one arm as he worked on unloading his pockets. House made his way through the door Wilson left open and quietly closed it behind him and tossed the chips he was holding onto a nearby side table, not even bothering with the ones in his pockets as he stalked closer to his unsuspecting victim.

Wilson was still unloading his pockets of his winnings when House pounced and grabbed him from behind with casino chips quickly flying from his surprised hands and littering the floor. "I've got you, Jimmy," he heard the gruff voice growl in his ear before kissing his neck; "There's no escape."

"Like I would even try." He scoffed back before turning around and was faced with the full on stare of those blue eyes. Wilson suddenly felt slightly light headed as an arm stayed firmly around his waist as another worked on pushing his hair from his forehead. Wilson was suddenly aware that he needed to get a haircut soon.

"Now that your wife currently has _ex_ preceding her title, well, I have you all to myself." House said in a quiet but stern way as he leaned in closer and rested his forehead against his and slowly started to push him, causing Wilson to walk backwards until he came to a stop when he legs met the bed.

Now having his prey where he wanted him, House pushed him back onto the king-sized bed before climbing onto of him. Suddenly it hit Wilson why he had been so excited about this trip. This is why, the viper had this planned from the very beginning! He had been waiting for this moment all day.

That bastard.

He would have punched the man had he not loved him. But it didn't matter now that he was lying back on a huge bed in Vegas with his best male friend and med school lover on top of him. If this was how it was going to be, so be it. He was going to enjoy himself the best he could.

He closed his eyes as he felt those lips kiss a trail up from his neck to his jaw line and to his mouth with that sharp stubble biting his skin the whole way. With a hand situated on the back of House's neck and another finding its way under his shirt, Wilson didn't fight any of it. He had no reason to do so. This was something he had been wanting, too.

And in the mist of groping hands and wandering lips, it didn't take for things to quickly begin to heat up and it was the feeling of House's hardening erection that back up that thought. But it turned out that his partner had a different thought on the matter. "What? Are you not feeling it?" he panted against Wilson's soft neck when he didn't feel the same of his lover. "Are you not attracted to me?" House asked drunkenly as he pressed his body against Wilson's.

"Too drunk!" he moaned as he pressed himself harder against House. Upstairs and down stairs may be having problems with the phone line but that didn't mean that he wasn't enjoying himself. House had completely forgotten. He was too drunk to remember Wilson's little secret. Great, he could still kind of remember last time this happened through the haze of alcohol. He definitely remembered it was he later that same night in the bathroom that took care of business.

That didn't seem as fun.

But it was almost as if Wilson knew what was going through his head, because while House thought back on previous times, Wilson quickly shot forward and pushed House down against the bed. Maybe things wouldn't end up in the bathroom. "Ohh, what are you gonna do to me?" he moaned teasingly as Wilson straddled him.

"Whatever I want." He replied with a wicked smile. Wilson should have known better. Those words were like a challenge that House couldn't pass up. In blink of an eye, House had managed to switch their places and nearly tossing both of them onto the floor.

"Are you sure you didn't mean whatever _I _want to do to _you_?" he asked, blue eyes narrowed and dark.

Wilson could only laugh. "Heh, certainly looks that way now, doesn't it?"

"Sure does." House pulled off Wilson's shirts but was stopped when he started to work off his belt. "Come on; just let me take them off." House spoke breathily in his ear and started at the task again but Wilson quickly pushed the wandering hands away before pulling back himself.

"No, leave my pants alone." He hissed.

But House knew what was going on. Wilson was embarrassed and ashamed of his sudden onset of ED via alcohol. "I don't care if you don't have a hard on!" he spat bluntly as he grabbed hold of Wilson's denim clad hips and pulled him back. "I just want skin."

Still Wilson wasn't backing down. "You have waist and up. Deal with it." And without warning, he shot forward and once again pushed House onto his back. Now it was his turn. House didn't protest one bit when Wilson pulled off his t-shirt and he didn't fight or push away the hands that worked on relieving him of his jeans and underwear.

Just to be cocky, House was about to ask what Wilson was going to do now that he had him striped of everything, even socks (unlike Wilson who still had his on), but the words were quickly lost in his throat when he felt a hand grab hold of him and started pumping him to a full hard on.

House never thought a hand job could feel so good. "Errrah! Gaa, Jimmy!" he called out as the man started to pump his hand a little faster. Blue eyes were closed to the world but that didn't mean he couldn't feel his lover multitasking and leaning in for a kiss. He kissed him as well as he could for the current situation. "F-Faster, fa-ohh gawd, Jimmy!" he panted and moaned as his command to go faster was replaced with a completely different sensation all together. He could feel those hands holding to his hips as a hot wet mouth engulfed him. House wished he could fight back the tides of ecstasy for longer than he actually had, but it wasn't his fault that his lover really knew how to use that pretty mouth of his.

Glazed blue eyes stared lazily at Wilson who pushed himself up and used the back of his hand to wipe the back of his mouth. "Damn, Jimmy… no mercy, eh?" his words were sluggish and slurred from passion and the alcohol he still had flooding his system.

"Well, since I wasn't going to get anything in return, I figured it would be alright."

A drowsy smile slowly started to stretch across House's face as he laid therewith his head still at the foot of the bed as he waited for his heart to stop pounding and breathing to return to normal. He was definitely starting to rub off on the young doctor. "I'll give you anything your little heart desires if you'd just take off your pants."

Wilson just let out a chuckle as he crawled over to House and laid down beside him with the said man pulling his lover to him and pressed his face against Wilson's exposed neck. He didn't like the way his lover's jeans dug into his more sensitive areas… but he didn't fight it. He knew Wilson wasn't taking the pants off, even if he really didn't care about the effect that alcohol had on him.

There was something about Wilson… just something amazing about him. House couldn't keep his hands and eyes off him and really didn't want to take them off in the first place. Another chuckle filled House's ears as his stubble tickled the more sensitive skin of Wilson's neck. House loved his laugh. That laugh, it was like ambrosia to him and So much so he loved it that he tried to elicit more with of it with well caressing fingers and his ticklish stubble.

In a halfhearted attempt to stop the lazy onslaught of tickling Wilson brought his arm up and tried to block House's face from his neck but it only lead to more affection. He placed a few gentle kisses against Wilson's forearm before pressing his face to the warm skin and with another kiss, House snuck in a nip or two at the soft skin. "Ah, hey… no biting." Wilson moaned as he pulled his arm away before making his way to the other side of the bed this time lying correctly with his head against the pillows.

Not really caring that his…chew toy of sorts was taken away, House stretched before pulling himself farther up the bed and resting his head against the pillows as well with his lover snuggling closer to him.

He leaned forward and placed his forehead against Wilson's as he reached up and ran his hand from his pretty beau's shoulder down to the those jean clad hips. This is how he'd like things to be; just the two of them like it was years ago. It was times like these when House could be affectionate and not worry about anything. He wouldn't have to worry about questions about why he was being so loving and caring.. Especially now. There were times when House liked being affectionate and this was one of them. This was the first time in six years he had been able to touch, kiss, and love James Wilson.

And he loved every second of it.


	25. Youll Always Be Close to My Heart, Vegas

---

_**CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR:**__ You'll Always Be Close to My Heart, Vegas_

_---  
_

When Wilson woke up it was a headache that greeted him first, then it was the lights that he forgot to turn off before going to bed. Not ready to wake up, he pulled the covers over his head and stayed there but of course it was no use. He was now awake and there was no going back to sleep now.

He did notice by the way he was sprawled out in the bed that he was the only one in it. Where ever House was he had no idea. Slowly he sat up and held a hand to his head as he tried to will his hangover away but to no avail. He was stuck with it for better or for worse and he was sure there was no for better when it came to a hangover. This was karma at its best. If you're going drink yourself into oblivion in one night, well, you've better be ready for the consequences.

He reached up and rubbed his face before looking about the room through squinted eyes. What he did find was a room littered with various articles of clothing and casino chips. He didn't even bother to pick up anything as he tossed back the covers and found himself dressed in only his jeans and socks. He let out an amused snort and shook his head. How he got to sleep in the first place with his jeans he had no clue. He really must have been smashed. After a quick stretch he pulled himself out of the bed and tried to block out the fact that he and the bed smelled heavily of stale old alcohol. He really needed a shower. But first, what was up with all those casino chips?

It looked almost as if they had attacked a dealer downstairs and just dumped their treasure out onto the floor. But really, they couldn't have done that, could they? No, that doesn't seem likely at all. Even drunk Wilson was never the kind to just attack and steal. Maybe they came about it the honest way and won it. But who? And doing what? He'd have to ask House if he knew later.

And speaking of House, where was he? It seemed he took Wilson's declaration about claiming the bed to heart because he was nowheres in it regardless to its large size. Slowly he sat up and looked around with eyes still heavy with sleep. It wasn't until he actually forced himself out of the bed was when he found him dressed in a t-shirt and pajama pants and stretched out on the Suite's couch asleep with the TV still on at a low volume.

--

It was the sound of something being dropped in the shower that woke House up from his deliciously peaceful slumber on an extremely comfortable couch. He cracked an eye open and found the room empty and quiet, save for the sound of the shower being shut off. He closed his eyes back and let out a loud yawn. He guessed now was a good a time as any to wake up. He opened his eyes again and this time something on the floor caught his attention. He arched a brow at the mess of a late night winnings streak but dismissed it as he closed his eyes again.

He laid there for a good while with his legs stretched out taking of the whole span of the couch as he waited for anything to happen beside the weather man talking about the weather outside on the TV. It was only when he heard the bathroom door open he finally spoke. "What the hell's with all these poker chips all over the floor?" House called as he turned his attention in the direction of the bathroom. It was a few seconds later Wilson immerged in the open doorway with an unbutton shirt hanging loosely around his shoulders as he held onto a towel he was using to dry his hair. House quickly turned his attention back to the weatherman. The last thing he needed to be doing now was drooling over his best friend in plain view.

Wilson didn't notice.

"Truthfully, I have no idea. I was hoping you knew." His brown eyes took in the slight of the messy floor once again before he took the towel he had been holding and started to worked on drying his hair some more while he headed back into the bathroom before tossing over his shoulder, "Why not count it and see how much money we have just lying around?"

"Yeah, sure." House answered simply, willing to do most anything to get his mind off the image of his friend. He had managed to sneak another peak just as Wilson has started to towel off his damp hair only to regret it immediately (even though his more primal side _really_ appreciated the view).

He sat up and tossed his legs over the side of the couch and stood, taking a good long stretch. There was something strange about the casino chips. What it was exactly he had no idea. There was just something suspicious about them that kept tugging at the back of his mind and wouldn't allow him let the feeling go.

Maybe he'd figure it out later.

Not really feeling to the task of having to bend over repeatedly and wanting his body more time to adjust to just waking up (more like being lazy), House opted to use his foot like a rake and started to sweep the chips into a pile. Once he had all of the chips he could see or bothered looking for he bent over and started to grab what he could in handfuls; dropped them into heaps onto the coffee table. He took the plastic wealth and started to sort them into their dollar amounts to make the counting process much easier.

And in that cute oblivious and klutzy way that he constantly denied he ever does, Wilson walked out into the living room and suddenly asked, "So, what's it looking like?"

House kept counting the chips by feeling them pass through his hand as held a stack of them and turned his head to the question, only to lose count at the sight of his friend standing there all handsome and pretty. House slowly narrowed his eyes at Wilson before turning his attention back to his hands that had come to a halt when the next number was forgotten. He played it off as that question tossing him off his game and fixed his gaze at the pile of already counted chips and promptly dropped the ones he still held in his hands onto the table.

Wilson immediately understood the gesture.

"Oh, sorry." He apologized and slipped passed the room and into the kitchen to make some coffee.

House nodded and pushed the pile aside and stared sorting the chips out again. Wilson was about to ask if House wanted some coffee, but quickly stopped himself just as the though finished. He just made the assumption that _yes, he would_ and that he'd better not make House miscount again or it was going to be he himself counting all the winnings.

While waiting for the coffee machine to do its job, Wilson went into the living room and watched until House finished off counting off the last few chips. "Goddamn… whoever did all the winning last night might have to go to the casinos in Atlantic City more often." Wilson furrowed his brows as the mention of Atlantic City tried to tug forth some memory of last night that echoed miles away in the foggy recesses of his mind.

_We might have to start brining you to Atlantic City during the weekends from now on!_

"What's wrong?" A gruff voice and curious stare brought Wilson crashing back to the casino's suite.

He looked back at House. "You said that last night." He spoke, his voice unsure. "Or something like it."

"Really?"

"I think so.. maybe." He thought a second more before added, "I don't.. I don't know." Not feeling that the statement held any real importance, Wilson dismissed the memory and went into the kitchen to check on the coffee.

House only tried to think on it. Atlantic City… He couldn't remember talking about it last night, but maybe he did. He wouldn't doubt it one bit. But whoever was doing all the winning last night was one lucky guy, that is, if over five grand had anything to say about it.

--

"Hey, Jimmy.. You remember anything about a cop car? Or riding in one last night?" House said as he took a sip of his Dr. Pepper while he stared at a cop car parked on a nearby curb. Wilson looked up from his food and furrowed his brows as if to think on it for a moment. "I could be a dream for all I know," House supplied and followed it up with, "Lord, I wish I could remember all the bullshit we probably got ourselves into last night." He laughed, finally pulling his attention from the cop car.

"No.. I don't really remember anything with a cop car.."

_You two been drinking?_

_Of Course! We're in Vegas!_

House winced just slightly at hearing the echoed remnants of that last comment. He was almost sure that was him. God, he was drunk last night. "What do you remember? Anything?" Wilson asked before shoving a forkful of some Mexican chicken mixture into his mouth as House snapped back from the memory.

_Don't consent to that, Jimmy! You're gonna get us put in jail!_

"I just remember some cop talking… and the inside of a cop car. But hell, we weren't arrested.. unless it's routine around here to toss the arrested and drunk back out onto the streets." Wilson shrugged.

"We'll probably remember later. Then again, maybe we'll never remember."

"Yeah, maybe not.." House tried off as he tried his hand at recalling anymore fragments of last night.

--

Vegas was just as exciting and filled with the things to make some of your most fabulous dreams come true as one always imaged it would be. They went and did everything and more. They went to restaurants, casinos, shows (a magic show that House demanded they go see), a play and Broadway (that Wilson demanded but not without much complaint from House), and in the end, even gave in and went to see one of the Siegfried and Roy shows downstairs. So, really they saw two magic shows. They also managed to get into a _Cirque du __Soleil _show on their last day there and let's not forget the two strip joints that third night.

Though no one got any closer to remembering what exactly what happened that first night, but they knew Vegas would always be held close as some of their best days. But even in all the fun and good times Wilson didn't know what was wrong with him or why he felt the way he did. Suddenly in a day's time he felt empty; like his heart was ripped out and was yearning for something...his heart ached for someone.

What confused him was what in the world started it? And why so suddenly? He thought maybe the whole divorce thing finally hit him and he was only now realizing that he really was alone. He wanted to say that was the reason, he really did. Then he would have an explanation for the way he felt..But something in the back of his mind said that wasn't right. That wasn't the reason.

But when it came time to leave Sin City, the two stuck to their plan on getting a rental car and were going to drive the way back. This way they could get the great feel of a road trip and take in all the scenery they had wanted to in the beginning, only this way they see it once instead of twice. Being that it was such a pleasant day out Wilson sat outside as he waited for House to fill out the paperwork for the rental. Once again, House had been secretive about the choice of car he was looking to rent and knowing him it could be just about anything.

Wilson didn't feel like spoiling his good mood with one of House's guessing games.

It was about ten minutes of as much peace and quiet one could have while sitting outside a car rental establishment when suddenly a black Corvette C5 convertible pulled up with Gregory House sitting in the driver seat with a smile that stretched from ear to ear. Wilson didn't even realize who it was until he heard a loud whistle meant to get his attention. "Oh my god, what is that?" Wilson asked with wide eyes as he stared at the car.

"This is something that's gonna cost me a shit load of money if we hurt it on the way home." Wilson approached the car and touched it as if it were a piece of fine china. House rolled his eyes. "Get in, you're not gonna break it, idiot. It's a car." Wilson did as he was told but not without a glare. House gave the wheel a soft stroke. "This baby isn't even a year old yet. Damn, we're gonna look hot driving this home."

"Don't you think it's a little much?"

"No, actually I think we should get even classier but it was the best thing they had on the lot." Wilson gave him a skeptical look. "Don't look at me like that; it's not your money. And besides, life is for living and having fun, not driving around in a piece of shits that will make you look just like that, a piece of shit."

"Right." Wilson answered back sarcastically.

But House knew his friend better than this. "Don't you even play that card with me! I know you're just about ready to piss yourself to drive around in this thing, admit it!"

Wilson let out a laugh, "Who wouldn't? I guess it's alright as long as I'm not paying for it." He said playfully as he leaned back in the seat and waited for House start driving.

"Now that's more like it! We can experience it all, Jimmy, riding around on that long open roadway, feeling the wind through our hair having the time of our lives. Hell, we can even sleep in those seedy motels and eat at truck stop diners!"

"You're probably the only person who wants to sleep in a fitly seedy motel."

"We can be Thelma and Louise! You can be Susan Sarandon and I'll be Geena Davis."

"Of course."

"Well?"

It took a little more convening, but finally Wilson gave in. "Only on one condition."

"And that would be?"

"We visit my Uncle Thomas in New Orleans."

"Hah! Jimmy, you don't even have to ask twice! If New Orleans is where you wanna go, I have absolutely no qualms about that!" he tossed Wilson an atlas book he bought from the car rental place. "Here, figure out how to get to New Orleans."


	26. Leave a Tender Moment Alone, Please

_**A/N: Before anyone says anything, I know Coldplay's song **__Green Eyes__** had not been released yet, but it was too perfect to pass up.**_

_**--**_

_**CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE:**__ Leave A Tender Moment Alone, Please._

--

House was in charge of most of the driving whereas Wilson was put in charge of reading the map. He preferred being referred to as _The Navigator_, while House agreed to refer to him as _Mr. Navigator._ But regardless of what his title was, he did his job and did it well. So much so he was doing a good job that House even consulted him a hunch about a shortcut.

"I think we should stay on this straightaway, we'll burn just as much time trying to get to the road and no telling what the speed limit is and if there are any cops waiting for someone to go racing by." He informed as he looked over on the atlas opened in his lap.

House rolled his eye, "You never wanna have fun! The fun about this trip is to let go and get lost every once and a while." And to show his restlessness House stepped on the gas and started to shoot faster down the highway.

"Hey, I consented to driving across country in a corvette. I didn't, however, agree to getting lost in said country in said corvette." He closed the atlas and slipped it behind his seat.

"Alright, Mom." He teased.

But soon enough, hunger pains were starting to get the best of the driver and something soon had to done, 'less Wilson want a cranky House on his hands. "I'm getting hungry. You wanna stop somewhere?"

"I have sandwiches."

House blinked once or twice before shooting his friend a suspicious glare. "Where the hell did you magically get sandwiches?" he made a small glanced over at Wilson to see him turn and start digging in a bag behind his seat before pulling out a paper bag.

"I got them from the lunch buffet at the hotel." He dug in the bag and pulled out a sub-like ham, turkey, and cheese sandwich wrapped tightly in plastic wrap. House nearly started to drool on himself he was so hungry.

"You had that meaty treasure the whole time and didn't bother to let me know? I see how it is! I get to drive all day and starve to death while you get to lay back and take in the sun and get cancer."

The oncologist shot him a halfhearted glare. "Obviously, you weren't listening when I told you we had them. I told you as we were leaving. You even said, _Later, I'm not hungry._" Wilson tossed the sandwich with it landing onto the driver's lap.

He eyed the sandwich before looking back to the road and asking, "Is it safe?"

"No, it's a landmine. What do you mean _is it safe?_ It's a sandwich."

"It's been in the car all day, is it safe to eat?" Wilson took the unappreciated sandwich from the driver's lap.

"Do you really think I would offer you food if I thought it wasn't safe to eat?" He didn't say anything. "I wouldn't' offer you bad food if I knew it was bad, that's just cruel. And it's still good. Look, it's wrapped tightly, it hasn't been sitting in the sun, there's no mayo or anything like that to go bad. And feel; it's still relatively cool to the touch!" Still not saying anything, House glanced at the sandwich and turned his attention once again to the road. "Fine! I'll eat the damn sandwich."

As if to try and tease his friend into eating, Wilson unwrapped the sandwich and started to dig in the paper bag for some packets of mayo and mustard. Once he had his sandwich dressed and to his liking he took a bite.

Oh, such torture he was subjected to. Wilson probably wasn't even hungry. And as if to voice in discontent to the whole situation, House's stomach let out a loud growl. He was ready to just snatch that sandwich from Wilson and wolf it down in one bite. "I know your plan, you just want me to keep on driving and eat sandwiches because you know when we stop and it becomes time to get back on the road it's gonna be your turn to drive!"

"Ahh, well," He swallowed his mouthful of food, "can't blame a guy for trying."

"See, I knew you weren't all sunshine and rainbows! I knew there was a conniving raincloud somewhere in there!" House laughed, knowing he was right about his friend. Because really, he was still the same guy from med school; just older.

But soon Wilson's cruel and vicious torture he was putting House through (in House's opinion, of course) was becoming too much. Before Wilson could take another bite, House all but growled his demand.

"Give me that damn sandwich."

--

The desert sunset was just as amazing and beautiful sight as everyone says it was. Maybe it was the fact that one could spy desert as far as the eye could see, so nothing was obstructing the view, or maybe it was because everyone said it was a wonderful sight that made it just that. Whatever the reason, Wilson made sure to take out his camera to take a shot. He even managed to trick his friend into a picture by getting his attention and snapping it candidly just as he looked.

House let out a loud yawn and offhandedly offered, "You know what this means, right?"

"What, _what_ means?" Wilson groaned as he noticed some sandwich crumbs on his shirt from earlier and started to brush them off.

"Since you've successfully conned me into driving all today mean that tomorrow you'll be driving all day, Mr. Navigator."

"Yeah.. Fine. Wait, why are we pulling over?" There was an unsure tone in his voice.

House picked up on it right away, "I'm not making you drive. So relax, that's for tomorrow. I gotta take a piss." Not even bothering with the door, he leapt out of the convertible and onto the road.

"There's a perfectly good bathroom just few miles up the road." He contested and watched his friend walk around the car.

"And there's a perfectly good… something over there I can piss on." He pointed in the general direction of the desert.

"Is that right?" he laughed in return.

"Yep. I'll be right back." He tossed nonchalantly over his shoulder as he casually made his way into the desert. About ten minutes went by before he returned. "Hey, help me get the hood up."

"Huh, what's wrong?" Wilson sat up from his short nap and yawned to find House making his way from the sands and rocks of the desert floor. There was something strangely alluring about the light of dusk and House wandering around in the desert.

"It's starting to rain. I felt some drops while I was trying to avoid killing myself on a snake. And besides, it gets cold in the desert at night." The top was easy enough to get back up and for the next hour or so the rain was hardly enough to even call it a drizzle but in the drop of a hat the sky opened and the rain started to fall hard and didn't show any signs of stopping. Soon it was raining harder and harder and was getting even more difficult to see the road in front of them.

"H-House, it's really starting to rain pretty hard..I think we should pull over. You know.. just until it calms down." Wilson offered, trying his best to hide the fear inkling in his voice.

House wasn't about to let some bad weather show him up. "Stop freaking out, you scaredy-cat. I got this." Wilson tried to convince himself to look away from the road but there was something about it that wouldn't let him. It felt almost like if he looked away they were doomed. He knew that was bullshit and poppycock, but he just didn't like the feeling of not knowing what was going on, not that he could really tell to begin with.

When it started to rain down even harder, that was when Wilson couldn't hold it in any longer. Fear was suddenly his best friend and he didn't like it at all. He was never really a fan of roller coasters.. "Come on, please? I-I-I'm begging you..You can't even see past the hood!" his voice trembled even as he tried with all his might to keep it from doing so.

"OH MY GOD! FINE!" House let out frustrated. He knew if he put his concentration into it he could drive, but there was no way he could do it if Wilson was whining and crying in his ear the whole time. "Look, Tyler's just a mile or so up ahead. We'll take the next exit, stop there and get a nap in or something while the rain calms down so you can do the same. A man can't think straight when you're crying.." He tried to hide the smile that suddenly appeared on his face at his last comment.

_A man can't think __**straight**__ just_ looking_ at you._

House managed to keep his devilish smile hidden well enough from his passenger. The idea seemed good enough for Wilson being that he hadn't objected, but sat quietly, staring pensively at the rain soaked windshield.

Just as House said, the city of Tyler, Texas was right up the road and only took but a few minutes before they were pulling into the first motel they could find. At first it almost looked as if House was going to get his wish of lodging at a seedy motel when they walked into the lobby to enquire about a room soaked from the downpour, but once they got into the room itself things were in much better state than it's less so curbside appeal.

Wilson wanted to know why they kept running into the luck of rooms or places that only had one bed per room. Only this place didn't have a couch only a small recliner pushed back against the wall and a small table in the corner of the room.

"You can have the bed since you're gonna be driving tomorrow." House offered as he pulled the lever at the right side of his seat and stretched back.

Wilson stared back absently. Why should he get the bed? "But you've been driving all day. I'll take the recliner, it's fine." House really didn't see why Wilson was putting up a fuss about this; he was quite used to sleeping in places that wasn't a bed. It would always come in big handy when he was on clinic duty.

He called it a gift.

"You'll be driving all day tomorrow. Take the bed." House retorted without even opening an eye.

Wilson didn't know exactly what he should do. He could take the bed, but he'd feel bad for it. Why should he get the one luxury this place provided? But that was Wilson, always willing to take the suffering in order for his friends to be comfortable.

Hearing no noise of the bed being prepared, House cracked open an eye to see Wilson still sitting in the small wooden chair next to the table. "Are you too lazy to get in the bed?" House asked, his voice holding a small hint of annoyance.

"You should take it. Really, I'll be fine with the recliner." But before he could think or say anything else, House let out a sigh and pushed the foot rest in his with legs and stood from the chair and walked toward the bathroom.

He could use a shower. "Look, you take the damn bed; if it makes you feel better you can buy me lunch tomorrow."

"I always buy lunch.." he muttered under his breath.

"What was that?" came from inside the bathroom.

Wilson shook his head and answered in that charming sarcastic way of his. "Oh, nothing." He let out a yawn before casually closing his eyes and resting his head on his arms as he leaned over the table. It turned out, if tired enough, Wilson could sleep in just as strange places as House could. This was evident enough being in that short amount of time of closing his eyes, he had fallen asleep.

This was short lived. Before he knew it House was shaking him awake. "Do I need to throw you in that goddamn bed myself? You're not getting out of driving tomorrow, no matter what aches and pains you get from sleeping like that." House made his way back to the recliner and stretched back.

God, he wanted it…the bed that is! Not House, well, no he.. - he found it better not to finish that thought. He wanted the bed, he would love to just go and crash for a good few hours but his conscience wouldn't let him… wait, what if he..

"We could share the bed. It's..big enough, well, for one and a half people. I mean, we shared the bed in Vegas.." Wilson said in a quiet and vaguely unsure voice.

House cracked open and eye and looked at him, "hm?"

"The bed, we could both use it." He offered again. God, he sounded like a fool.

Of course, House wasn't going to let an offer like that go to waste. Teasing wise, that is. "You just don't want to sleep in a bed alone. Don't want to be reminded about how pathetically lonely you are? It would be the first time you slept alone in a bed since the divorce, isn't it, Jimmy?"

"Shut up, I'm trying to be nice here." Wilson sat down on the edge of the bed as House stood once again from the recliner and stretched.

"Yeah, and I'm just pointing out that your niceness has a motive behind it. It's not as pure as you had hoped."

"Yeah, whatever. You want to share the bed or not?" Wilson asked one last time as he started to pull off his shoes.

He sat a moment before giving a small nod. "sure."

--

That night each man stuck to his side of the bed well enough for the size of the mattress. That is, until the storm started to get worse. Suddenly a clash thunder woke the resident light sleeper. Tired blue eyes glanced around the room before he carefully pulled himself out of the bed and pushed back the curtains and glanced out the window. The rain wasn't as bad, but he knew where there was thunder there was lightning. Besides, they needed sleep anyways; they might as well wait until morning before heading out again.

After coming to this decision he crawled back into the bed, but it was another sudden clash of thunder that finally brought his attention to the man next to him. In the sudden loudness he felt Wilson flinch through the mattress. This was probably what actually what woke him up, not the thunder. When he looked he could see that the man looked asleep.. and curled up in what looked like a lazy fetal position.

House continued to watch his sleeping friend until yet another rather loud clash of thunder caused Wilson to let out a quiet whimper and tried hopelessly to curl into a tighter jumble.

_Great. Just absolutely perfect. Jimmy's subconscious is afraid of thunderstorms. _

He thought sarcastically to himself as he sighed and thought on what to do. It took another clash of thunder for House to make up his mind. He knew he couldn't leave Wilson to whimper all night; the both of them would get no actual rest and who would drive? It was Wilson's turn, by the way.

So with an act (that if he was asked he would try to play off that he was trying to get Wilson to shut up so he himself could get to sleep) he slowly tried to pull Wilson out of his curled up position. For the first time he was thankful that the man was such a hard sleeper. Once he had him stretched out, more thunder hit causing Wilson to turn from him but to House the only thing that mattered was that he was still stretched out.

Cautiously, he laid back down and spooned against Wilson's back as he draped an arm over his waist, trying to add any bit or reassurance that he could. He knew things were good and fine when he felt Wilson try and snuggle down into the sheets. The man only snuggled when he was comfortable and relaxed. And as if to help him even further, House leaned forward and placed a very sweet and gentle kiss against the soft skin of the back of Wilson's neck.

He suddenly wanted to bite off his tongue. What was he doing?! He was somewhere in the middle of Texas, stranded in some thunder storm, curled up with his best friend and he just kissed him. What? Had he lost his mind?

He was almost certain he had.

With closed eyes, it didn't take long for House to fall back to sleep.

--

"Hey, I'm going to go get my phone." House turned around as he stood on an expansive front porch and watched as Wilson race off to the Corvette. The drive out of Texas that morning was relatively uneventful (definitely with Wilson's safe driving) and House was just happy to be somewhere he can possibly stir up some commotion.

Feeling slightly like a fool and a stalker just standing out on a stranger's front porch, he opted to just knock on the door. But just as House raised his hand to knock it opened and suddenly he was standing face to face with the prettiest green eyes he had ever seen.

_..I think you should know, that green eyes, you__'__re the one that I wanted to find and anyone who tried to deny you must be out of their mind…_

"Uncle Dami!" He pushed the song from his mind when he heard a very chipper Wilson cry out from behind him. He stepped back and watched as Wilson went to his uncle's boyfriend as if he had always been in his life like his Uncle Thomas had.

"Hey, Jim! It's a treat to find you out here on the porch when yer tryin' to get the mail." Damien hugged his nephew. "Why, I didn't even know you were comin'!"

Wilson laughed, "Yeah, we were going to be in the area, so we decided to come on by!"

"In the area?" Damien eyed his nephew suspiciously.

House smiled and kept quiet. "We were on our way back from Las Vegas! Honest!" He held his hands playfully in the air as if to surrender. "Oh! Uncle Damien, this is Greg. Greg, this is Damien." The two shook hands and House introduced himself as _a friend from work_.

"So, did Thomas know you two were comin'?"

"No, I wanted to surprise him."

"Ah, that explains why I didn't know. You know Thomas, can't keep a secret to save his life. Ahh, but where are my manners, come in! Thomas is in the kitchen working on a crawfish stew." House and Wilson followed Damien through the parlor room into the living room and to the kitchen. "Hey, Thomas! You have some visitors."

There standing at the stove was the younger of the two older Wilson boys working on stirring and keeping the roux from over cooking. After one look House had no doubt in his mind that this was Jimmy's flesh and blood. He looked so much like Jack there was no denying it, but those hazel eyes were a dead giveaway.

Another thing that caught House's attention right away was the large steel bowl nearly halfway still full of unpeeled boil crawfish that two men were at the table working on peeling. "Jimmy boy! What are you doing here?" Thomas laughed before quickly adding, "I'd go over there and give you a hug if this roux wasn't so demanding. If I so much as think about leaving it be it would burn."

"We were on our way home from Vegas and thought we'd stop for a quick visit."

"Quick?" Max, the fellow sitting at the end of the table asked and gestured for Wilson to pass him a paper towel, which he did without complaint.

"Yeah, we can only stay the day. Hey, Max! Sammy! We have to be back at work for Thursday and we're driving." Being tempted by an empty stomach and the enticing smell of boiled crawfish, Jimmy snatched a few crawfish tails from the bowl that Samuel had been working on filling.

"I wouldn't do that again if you want to keep yer hand, Jimmy." Samuel informed as he continued to keep his attention on peeling crawfish. "Next time I may bite it off." He winked playfully.

"Jimmy, don't you know that old saying? Don't get between a Cajun and his food." House supplied with Samuel smiling in return.

"It's more like an unwritten law."

"If you want some, you can have some. You just have to peel it yourself." Max reassured his cousin. This was how the visit was. There was much poking fun and kindhearted teasing on all parts and House felt himself fitting in just fine. He didn't get to meet everyone in the family being that one of the daughter's, Ali, had gone to a friend's house after school and Paul had gone to band practice. But that was fine; there were still many people to meet.

There was Thomas and his boyfriend Damien. Also, there was Samuel, Dillon, and Courtney, all Damien's kids and Max, who was of course Thomas's boy. They were all a lively bunch and like the Wilson household back in Philly, were all very family oriented. All in all it was a good visit. House even got to pick a little fun with Wilson when he realized that Thomas and Damien were a couple with a crap load of kids between them. _This had better not be a glimpse into the future. _House thought to himself. Sure, being with Jimmy would be nice but having that many kinds from god knows where would be too much.

But when it was all said and done and it was time to get back on the road there was planning to do. "So, where are we off to now, Mr. Navigator?" House sat back in the passenger seat as he watched a stray cat trying to persuade a teen for some of her hamburger.

Wilson waited for the red-light to turn green but looked over to his friend with a somewhat forlorn smile, "You feel like a drink?"

"Hah! I thought you'd never ask! To come all the way to New Orleans and not visits Bourbon Street would be a crime!" He turned back in time to see the teen giving in and handing over a quarter of her burger patty to the cat.

--

There was something deeply affecting his friend, he just didn't know what. House had been trying to figure it out all day. There was something that was just dragging Wilson down and he didn't seem like his happy self. His mind kept running through the events of today but he really didn't see anything that would upset him. It had to be something if he wanted to drink but what seemed to be wearing very hard of the man's nerves at the moment seemed to be a song playing on the jukebox.

Sure the song had been playing on repeat since they had arrived, but it was him watching his friend's every movement that told him he was right. It was after a few more times of playing on repeat it was definitely getting on Wilson's nerves.

When Billy Joel's _Leave a Tender Moment_ started to play for what seemed like the millionth time, Wilson cut House off in midsentence by holding up a finger and excusing himself. House arched a brow and watched as Wilson walked across the room to the jukebox and spoke to the man who had been to blame for the song playing all evening and spoke calmly to him. He didn't know what the fellow had just told Wilson, but whever it was certainly didn't help. Wilson walk back to the bar and took a seat back next to House. "So, did you get what you wanted?"

Wilson took a swig from his beer and answered simply, "We'll find out in a few minutes." But of course, courtesy made no impression and when the song started up again, House watched his friend stiffen and take a deep breath as he tried to ignore the fact that Billy Joel was singing once again about being afraid of messing up a tender moment. House took it all in and watched his friend's movements and subtle body language curiously and closely. Oh, something was going to happen sooner or later. He even silently gave his friend kudos when he managed to ignore the song when it played once more. He knew Wilson hadn't gone and done anything just yet because the jukebox was still running on the money the patron had put in when Wilson first confronted him.

But when the song played a fourth time, Wilson couldn't hold it in any longer; it was obvious the man had put more cash into the jukebox. "Oh my god, House, please.. please, pleeeeease make him stop! He won't listen to me! Just make him stop playing that song; he can play any song he wants! Just not that one! It's driving me mad! Please, I know you can! If anyone could make an idiot stop something it's you!" But House only stared at his friend. He wasn't Wilson's lapdog and it was times like this when he really tried to get that across to his friend. Yes, he could most definitely get that man to stop, and even leave the bar and go home or where ever, but Wilson needed to get some backbone and do it himself.

House knew if it was really bothering him that much he could do it himself. And that was just what he did.

"Well, if you're not going to do anything, _I_ will." And with that Wilson stormed off in the direction of the jukebox. House only shook his head and turned his attention back to his beer. Jimmy was going to get himself killed. No matter, if anything started to go down he would jump in a save-

His thought was quickly cut short at the sound of shattering glass. Quickly he shot up just in time to see the fellow who had been feeding the jukebox all evening eyes wide in fear as a large antique mirror that had been hanging near the jukebox now laid shattered on the floor with Wilson's beer bottle broken and shattered along with it.

"I SAID, _STOP PLAYING THAT DAMN SONG!!_"

House sighed to himself and sat back down. "I guess that's one way to do it." But before the distraught patron could answer or respond back the sound of more glass shattering could be heard as a shot glass collided with a wall and nearly hitting another man with him tossing his in a retaliation fire.

_Monkey see, monkey do._ House thought. He knew he'd need to get Wilson out of here and fast.

But it was too late. Before he could even think of standing up back up he knew his buddy was in big trouble when an off duty officer stood up and flashed his badge. He made no attempts to stand up or speak as a pair of handcuffs were strapped onto the normally very cautious James Wilson's wrists or when he was being escorted out of the bar along with two other patrons who threw shot glasses.

House simply turned to finish his beer. It was going to be a little while before he could get his friend anyway, might as well not let a good beer go to waste. After fifteen minutes and a glass of bourbon later, he simply asked the bartender how to get to the police station being that he had to get his recently arrested friend out of jail.

--

Wilson sat quietly on the floor of his cell with his back against the wall and his gaze to the ceiling. Great, just what he needed to happen. He declined his phone call, giving the excuse that he was from out of town and anyone he called would be states away. He really didn't want his uncle to know he was arrested anyways.

But that didn't explain where House was. He could only hope that he didn't get into trouble on the way to get him. It was only after a few more minutes of self loathing for letting his temper get the best of him and feeling absolutely alone was when an officer can in. "James Wilson?" He looked up to see an officer at his cell door with House standing next to him with a proud smile on his face. "You made bail. You're free to go."

No words were said between the walk from the station to the car. It was minutes after they were back to driving when House finally spoke, "So, you successfully managed to get that idiot to stop playing that song." He glanced over to Wilson. It was obvious just by his posture that he wasn't celebrating anything in the least. Wilson was leaning on the door and staring off at the view of the city and the Mississippi river from the Crescent City Connection Bridge, not even bothering to join in on the conversation.

"So, you wanna go back to your Uncle's? We can take the next exit and turn around." He offered kindly.

"No."

House sighed and rubbed his forehead. He hated being in situations like these. He never knew the kinder way to pull someone and make them feel better. "So, what did the big bad wolf say that got you piss off enough to break a ten foot mirror?"

Wilson sat up and glared. "You want to know what he told me, what he had the nerve to tell me when I asked him to stop? He told me, _Leave a tender moment alone._" House didn't even bother to hide his smile. That was a good one. "I guess I just… lost it." He shrugged. "I wasn't trying to hurt or assault him; I was just trying to make him listen."

"That you did, the whole bar was listening by that point. By the way, you own me three thousand bucks." House tossed in.

"What? For bail?"

"No, for that mirror you broke. I paid the owner before I left. A thanks would be nice." He added teasingly.

"Yeah thanks. That cop was there, he saw everything. I shouldn't have the assault charge.."

"Don't worry about it. When we get back home I'll call a lawyer and get it taken care of. Just forget about all this bull and think about having fun for the rest of this trip!"

But Wilson was done with this fun. "I don't feel like this road trip anymore. Can't we just fly home?" He didn't even bother to look at House; he only stared out the window.

House gave a sad smile. "Someone's gotta drive the Corvette to New York. You can fly home if you're not up for it anymore." There were times when House did see the line and knew when not to cross it (That is when he didn't miss it by flying over it). Somewhere between Wilson's arrest and bailing him out, he had figured out that it was all this family stuff was just reminding Wilson over and over about him being newly divorced and alone, so if he wanted to go home, he wasn't going to stop him.

But Wilson didn't want to be alone just yet. "No.." he answered, "I'll just suck it up. No point in me spoiling our road trip by going home early." He pulled on a smile to try and set his friend at ease.

House saw right through it but didn't say anything, only nodded.


	27. Dressed to the Nines for Poker

_**--**_

_**CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX:**__ Dressed to the Nines for Poker_

_--_

The trip from New Orleans back to Princeton wasn't as fun or exciting as either man had hoped it would be. House tried his best to cheer his friend up but it all only proved to be temporary solutions. Sure he would smile or chuckle at a comment but House could still plainly see that forlorn look in those brown eyes. In a matter of minutes he'd be back to his quiet and depressed attitude.

But eventually even the best trips came to an end. After they had made it back to Princeton the two stopped at House's first to drop off their things. Wilson would have to look for an apartment soon. Stacy was at the apartment as expected and greeted House kindly with a hug and kiss with Wilson turning a blind eye to it. He didn't want to deal with love at the moment if he wasn't the one receiving it. After they said their hellos and received a welcome back, House gave the promise that they would tell her all about their trip when they returned back from New York.

Wilson prayed silently that he wouldn't invite her for the trip. He knew it was rude of him to even think such thoughts but he just couldn't help it. Though he loved Stacy, she was a wonderful and great person, he just didn't like seeing her and House together. It wasn't just because it was House, just seeing anyone getting affectionate at the moment made him extremely jealous. He just didn't want to deal with it.

"Why are you two going to New York?" She asked curiously. She didn't look like she was dressed to go out, much less a big city of making impressions.

"Ah, we just gotta drop off the rental car, no biggy. Once we drop it off we're probably gonna take a cab back or something." She nodded.

Not once did he invite her to come along for the ride. Wilson was thankful and House knew he was. The ride to New York was a little more lively and exciting than when they drove back to Princeton only in the fact that Wilson didn't have to watch two people in love the whole way. Sure, he knew if Stacy went with them that the two of them wouldn't show PDA or anything of the sort.. it was just the fact of her being there that would have left a bad taste in his mouth.

All the while he thought this he felt guilty. How could he feel this way about such a nice person? None of it, none of this.. nothing was her fault. Wilson was just upset because she was happy and had a boyfriend who happened to be his best friend. Wilson knew he would never admit out loud or even to himself that he was jealous, because he wasn't.. He wasn't jealous.. no.

That's what he told himself repeatedly.

The traffic was surprisingly easy going for a Saturday and it didn't take them too long before they were arriving that the exotic cars rental. The worker was pleased to have the car returned in such fine condition and the two, or rather House, was able to get his deposit back. But when it came time to head back home, an idea rang in House's head.

Ever since he had run into Wilson again he had been curious about how the man felt on his sexuality. Sure, he was married to a charming young woman but House knew that didn't mean shit. Wilson could be as gay as could be and be married to a woman to try and hide it away under some rug or a piece of furniture. Well, House hadn't seen the man hit on anyone of the same sex.. though he could have sworn sometime last month Wilson was staring a little too hard at a male malpractice lawyer.. but all that was snuffed out by how charming and flirtatious he could be with a pretty girl. House could still remember how avid Wilson was back in med school about hiding his love for a fellow man.

With this plan, House hoped to be able to get a quick glimpse into a part of his friend that may have stayed hidden since 1991. He could only hope so. Now to pitch the idea..

"Well, we're in New York.. you wanna get a drink or something? I mean, we're not driving home." Wilson thought about the idea for a moment. They didn't have work tomorrow.. and he really could use a drink…

"Yeah, sounds good to me."

--

At first everything seemed fine and good. The two of them sat at the bar and enjoyed a few drinks, House had a drink called a _Curious Comfort_ that was mixed with Southern Comfort bourbon, Curacao and pineapple juice where as Wilson ordered a cute _Tom Collins_ with a nicely placed cherry and lemon that sat at the top of the glass with a straw. The two sat and chatted about nothing in particular as they worked on forgetting the busy hectic world around them in favor for their own. And when House excused himself for the bathroom again nothing seemed out of the ordinary as Wilson sat there by himself waiting for his friend's return so they could continue chatting about who was the better James Bond: Sean Connery or-

"hallo, beautiful," An accented voice spoke in a low seductive manner nearly in his ear that quickly brought all thoughts to a halt. Wilson quickly turned to find a man watching him closely from the stool to his left with the first thing he noticed about the man was his eyes. His right eye was a light blue that was nearly so light it looked white but so rich and dark around the pupil it nearly looked black. The other eye was less remarkable at a light brown but pretty nonetheless. "My name's Mateo. What's yours?" he asked with a smile.

Wilson turned his attention to his own drink but answered nonetheless. "Dr. James Wilson." Though he would never admit it, when asked Wilson would always find a way to slip Doctor in while introducing himself. It was his title; he did the work and he deserved the respect.

But he really should have known better. "Oh! You're a doctor, how nice. What do you do?"

He could swear he felt this guy get even closer to him. Where was House? "Oncology.. er, cancer." He specified when he was given a look of vague confusion at the word _oncology._

"So.. what brings you here, doctor?" he man drew out in a coaxing manner. "You looking for a quick fuck? 'Cause I-"

"_Get. The hell. Away. From. Him._" Came an angry growl addressed to the man currently trying to get into Wilson's pants. House knew his harsh words were justified by the look of extreme thankfulness he received from his buddy. "What did you do? Just wait for me to go to the bathroom to jump him? He's with me and isn't interested in whatever you're offering! So, either you leave him alone or you'll have me to deal with!" House held his hands in a tight fist. If this guy was going to fight he wasn't gong to be caught off guard.

"Hey, the man can speak for himself." Mateo snapped right back.

House shot Wilson an expecting look. "No, I'm not interested." He answered as confidently as he could muster. Mateo shot House a glare before walking away from the two with the word _prick_ leaving his lips in a hushed mutter. House didn't care about that, he only cared that no one was trying to move in on his friend. "House, where the fuck did you bring me?" he asked as he looked around the room to suddenly find that things weren't as calm and normal as he originally thought they were.

There was no doubt about it; this was a gay bar.

He shot House a look to explain. He was given a shrug in return. "Donno, looked like a fine place for a drink." He turned his attention to Wilson who pulled his drink closer and took a sip from his straw. "You wanna leave?" He watched closely trying to gauge his actions and words. He wanted to know how Wilson felt about the whole gay thing and if he was any closer to comfortable than he had been in med school.

"We can finish our drinks first. I think I need one after that."

Okay, so maybe trying to gauge his comfort level right after a stranger propositioned him for sex wasn't the best way for results, but he didn't run out the place screaming.. there was still a chance.

Maybe.

--

It had been a good few months since the trip to Vegas and still everything between the two were as they always had been. They were still two friends hanging out and having fun where it could be had. House was still with Stacy and Wilson was still alone. Sure there was a girl or two in between he had dated a few times, but nothing serious. House didn't pay it any mind.

That week Wilson had been rather busy trying to put together an idea he had in order to raise some money for the Cancer wing of PPTH when the money started to get tight. With the inspiration being from their trip to Vegas, Wilson suggested to Cuddy that the hospital throw a Cancer Benefit that they would take the Clinic and turn it into a casino and invite some of the hospital's donors. The idea was so great that she even promised that if it turned out well it could be an annual thing.

With this tidbit Wilson was determined to have everything go off without a hitch. Sure it was butting in on he and House's time together, but he, nor did House mind that much. House understood where he was coming from. If he had cared about all the cancer kids like his friend he would want to try and save them all, too.

The week of the event was the busiest. Wilson seemed to be calling for this and that, making sure the renters could deliver felt tables in time, if dealers were available, arranging food; the whole nine yards. At first House was annoyed when Wilson blew him off while on his phone.. and he was annoyed a second time when he passed going out somewhere for dinner (House's treat) and turned him down for discussing with the caterers on what food and drinks were to be prepared. But in the end he ultimately forgave Wilson for all this as well when he overheard the man on the phone talking about a poker tournament. How sweet is that? How great would it feel to just run up and kick all of your fellow coworker's asses and even your boss's at poker?

Talk about wonderlust.

And when the night arrived it was needless to say that Wilson a nervous wreck but he somehow managed to be a power house at getting everything in order and running like a well oiled machine. When House arrived that evening Wilson was all smiles and relief at his handy work.

And not to mention how gorgeous that tuxedo looked on him…

There was always something very attractive about Wilson in a tuxedo. The guy just looked the part of a man of refined culture and looked it fabulously. Though he would never admit it to anyone and definitely much less Wilson, but this was one of the real reasons (besides the poker, that is) he was actually at this cancer benefit thing. He knew he would have been a fool to miss the rare sight of James Wilson in a tuxedo. He only wished that a pair of glasses had come with that package but a bow tie wasn't a bad consolation prize.

Now thinking on the subject of glasses it had nearly been a year since Wilson started working at the hospital and not once in that time had he seen the man in a pair of glasses. Not even sunglasses.. well, actually he'd never seen Wilson in a pair of sunglasses. He knew Wilson had a distaste of being seen with them on. He really couldn't understand why. They actually made him look mature and sophisticated.. It was funny that he seemed to adore those qualities in Wilson as well as his ability to be just as childish as he himself could be at times.

Maybe he was teased about it in school by the other kids. He never understood why kids would make fun of something as simple as a pair of glasses. Then again, not everyone was as attracted to someone wearing glasses as he was. Oh, if that were the case.. what he wouldn't do to beat the crap out of the children that teased and harassed Wilson about that inevitably lead to him being constantly deprived of such a gorgeous sight.

And if in the time they had spent apart Wilson had gotten Lasik surgery, House was almost sure he might have to kill someone. But upon further thought, Lasik had an air of uncertainty about it that still made it iffy with many people sticking with their glasses rather than taking the chance of messing up their eyes. Perhaps there was just enough uncertainty to keep the cautious Wilson at bay.

For his sake he had better hope so.

When he finally found Wilson he was chatting it up with some donors trying to tell them what their donations would do for the cancer ward. Armed with his charming smiles and charismatic ways he was sure to get whatever money needed and then some for the hospital's poor cancer stricken patients. Not wanting to butt in and ruin any of Wilson's chances of swaying the donors , House stuck it out and made his way over to the poker table. The function itself wasn't going to end until midnight or 1AM.. he couldn't remember, but he was sure he was going to see Wilson sometime in the night. It wasn't like he was going to leave the party early; this was his brain child after all.

House was pleased to see the table where the poker tournament was going on was nice and full and had a few more competitors at another table. Oh, how he was going to love this. He was going to wipe the floor with all of their asses! He just knew it. He made space for himself at the larger table and smiled at the faces he did and did not recognize. There, of course was Cuddy as well as a handful of doctors that he didn't bother himself to know, two he recognized from pediatrics and oncology, there was his underlings, Stewart and Parker, and a few more faces he suspected were more doctors and donors. Within the first hour quite a few people had already been knocked out the tournament from a series of bad bets and see through expressions.

After chatting with nearly everyone in the room (the donors that is..) Wilson resigned himself to the Black Jack table for a little fun himself.

For hours this is how things went. House tried his hand at being the poker champion with a glass of Champaign at his side and Wilson had been just about everywhere in the room to try and play the part of kind and charming acquaintance to the donors. And where there was an open bar there was sure to be a drunk or two and this theory was back up when House glanced up and saw a rather drunk fellow doctor making his way across the room at a brisk trot. It was obvious that the drunken fellow had been having a good night judging at the amount of chips he had in his arms.

The sight gave House a strange sense of Déjà vu. Never had he thought seeing a drunk man running across a room with an arm full of poker chips would bring back any memories of any kind, but he could feel something, remember something just trying to break free from a dark haze that had been forgotten.

But what?

He kept his blue eyes on the fellow as he continued his journey across the room before he, while not watching where he was going, collided with a nearby bust boy. Like clockwork, he watched as the excited drunk jumped in surprise by the sudden collision and the sound and sight of chips clamoring to the floor suddenly got the gears of the mad doctor's brain going in overdrive.

Something wasn't right. Something was dreadfully wrong and he couldn't remember what. He watched with furrowed brows as the drunken fellow tried to hide his look of surprise before apologizing to the bust boy and started to pick up the fallen chips.

Suddenly a quick image or quick clips of memory played in his mind. Everything was bright, a multicolor bright and sounds of excitement and video poker machines were nearly overwhelming. There sitting next to him was Wilson with a bright excited smile as he leaned forward and started to pull his huge stack of winning closer to him before glancing over his shoulder at House, that smile still as charming and cute as ever, even when fully inebriated.

_**You know, I think you might be my good luck charm.**_

"House!"

Suddenly he was pulled back to reality by the loud bark of Cuddy about the current bet. "Huh?" he looked back across the room to see the drunken fellow gathering the last of his chips.

"It's 50 to stay in. You in or fold?"

He absently tossed in $50.00 worth of chips without a word, no longer actually playing the game.

--

Blue eyes looked around the crowded room for anything to spark his memory. He was going to figure out what his mind was trying to tell him even if it took all night. He fidgeted with his chips as he turned his attention back to the green felt of the poker table when his felt his ears twitch at the sounds of Wilson's voice drift from somewhere across the room. He couldn't make out what was being said, only that it was Wilson's voice. He kept his attention to the green felt as something else tried to play with his memory.

_**What are you staring at?**_

_The brightness of casino lights were still sickeningly bright around them as people tried their hands at winning some money._

_**Your eyebrows.**_

_Wilson reached up and touched his left brow._

_**What's wrong with my eyebrows?**_

**Nothing.. they're just.. you know, big.**

**So? They help me express my feelings better!**

House felt himself smile.

**They suit you.. they're cute.**

"I fold." He looked up at the sound of Stewart giving up and tossing in her cards. She could see her boss smiling and that was enough to convince her that he had a pretty good hand. Little did she know that his mind wasn't even on the game. Parker promptly followed her lead.

There was something about that night in Vegas that kept bugging House. There was something that didn't sit right that seemed peculiar about it. He couldn't figure out what it was though. There was something about the chips that kept tugging at his mind, something that kept making the gears running wildly in his head. Glancing up from his cards, he was able to catch the sight of someone working their hand in their pockets and pulling out a few chips and handing them off to a friend.

Suddenly everything stopped. What was it? What was his mind trying to tell him, what was it trying to get him to remember? Furrowed brows stared hard at his own chips as he shuffled them about with one hand. There was something about these chips.. something that was trying to trigger something lost and forgotten. He picked up the stack of chips he had been playing around with and took a closer look at them. They weren't remarkable in the least, just simple solid color chips with white stripes along the sides.

While still staring and examining the chips trying to find the missing piece he needed, a few slipped from his hand and clattered against each other onto the table.

_**I've got you, Jimmy, there's no escape.**_

He heard his own voice growl deep within the recesses of his mind. His brows furrowed more as his eyes stared at the discarded chips.

_**Like I would even try..**_

Wilson's voice was just as sultry and teasing. House closed his eyes tight in an attempt to force his mind to remember, to show him what was going on, what he was desperately trying to remember. Suddenly he remembered Wilson trying to pull the chips from his pockets and dropping them into his shirt before pouncing him from behind with the said chips going all over the floor.

That's why the chips were all over the next morning, that's what kept playing on his mind. That's what he had been trying to remember. He and Wilson that night.. they..

Those blue eyes were wide with realization as everything came flooding back to him. It was as if the dam that had the memories from that night blocked off had suddenly burst and everything from that night all hit him at once.

The memories were overwhelming and seem to make his head spin, everything was so loud it left him flustered and confused. He could hear snippets and bits of what happened that long forgotten night. He could remember drinks, streets, green felt, bright lights and loud music. He could remember those eyes, those hands, those lips… It was just so much to take in at a second's time.

He could even remember what Wilson told him that night as he was falling sleep.

And as quickly as it had started, all the noises in his head came to a sudden stop, allowing him to hear, just as quiet as he had answered that night:

_**...I love you, too.**_

Suddenly with a loud breath House shot up from his seat at the poker table with everyone looking at him. "Where's Wilson?" he blurted out looking around the room flustered.

Cuddy knew something was up. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he answered too quickly. "I just need to know where Wilson is."

"I think he's at the blackjack table." another doctor at the table added before pointing in the general direction of the tables. And sure enough, there was the man he was looking for. House didn't even excuse himself as he took off.

"Jimmy! Hey!" He called as he approached the table in a brisk speed. Wilson glanced up at him before turning his attention back to his cards. "Hey, that trip to Vegas we took... we had a lot of fun, didn't we?" he asked, trying to gauge Wilson's reactions. He had to know if he remembered it, too.

He nodded as he gestured for another hit from the dealer on his 2 of clubs. "Yeah, we did." When those sweet brown eyes looked at him he was almost at a loss for words. When he looked at Wilson he could remember everything, the sounds and feeling from that night.. and Wilson didn't remember a thing.

"What are you doing this weekend? You wanna go to Atlantic City?" He had to get to the bottom of this; he had to figure it out. Maybe getting the man alone again away from home will help.

"Can't. I'm going to Boston."

House scoffed and gave a questioning look. "Boston? What the hell do you have to do in Boston?"

"I've got a date."

He felt like banging his head against a wall. _What the fuck?!_ He couldn't tear into Wilson for going out on a date with someone.. but dammit! It wasn't supposed to happen! This was House's moment; he was supposed to be the one who was finally getting his prize.

Because really... he figured it out. He remembered what happened. Shouldn't he get something for that?

"Is something wrong?" Wilson asked curiously as he gestured for the dealer for another hit. Yes, there was something terribly wrong, Wilson didn't remember.

House pulled a look of indifference to his answer. "No, no problem here." He tried to hide any and all of his disappointment. "If you can't go to Atlantic city than you can't go." And to save himself from any more looks from Cuddy or anyone else in the room he left.


	28. This Bad Day Started My Bad Life

--

_**CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN:**__ This Bad Day Started My Bad Life_

--

So, Wilson got married… again.

After only four months he finally gave into his new found addiction and asked his girl Bonnie to marry him.. and of course, as everyone knew she would; (and who wouldn't)she accepted. House couldn't be more annoyed and even though he regularly showed his displeasure of him being with Bonnie by always referring to her as _The Sequel_, Wilson as usual paid him no mind and went about his business.

At least Wilson didn't forget him all together. The groom did make House his best man.

After that night at the cancer benefit, House made no attempts to even jog his friend's memory about that one night. He figured once again, if Wilson didn't remember then he either didn't want to or didn't deserve to and even though he would sometimes dream of his friend at night, he always managed to pull himself through without so much as a word to Stacy. She loved him and he her, since she wasn't going any where and he wasn't going to let her, he resigned himself to the thought of always being with her.

He really did love her… he just happened to have a thing for his best friend as well.

Once again, Wilson was loving the rush he got from being a newly wed. Though he would never admit it to anyone, especially House, but the feeling was wonderful enough that he could possibly, if he were feeling silly enough, call it a drug he could easily become intoxicated with. And a good few months after the wedding and honeymoon, Wilson had managed to get a week off from work from his wife's urging to go and visit her parents in Maine.

When Wilson told House about the news he only showed disinterest and followed it up with, "You had better get back here quick; I don't think I can deal with all the morons in this hospital on my own." House did care; he just didn't like showing it. Too bad for him Wilson knew how to read these quirky little comments of his. And with a quick goodbye, Wilson left the hospital after work that Friday evening and wasn't due back for a week.

With an open weekend with nothing to do, House decided to fill one of his days with a nice game of golf. It was too bad his best competitor was in Maine. Well, it never hurt to play by yourself. He could get in some practicing and that would give him a better chance at creaming Wilson at the game next they played together.

Alone he was probably playing a personal best at that course. Sure he had played there quite a few times, but to be on hole twelve and only have 27 and somehow magically avoided landing in that sand trap back on hole nine. Dressed in an exceptional outfit for the accompanying cool weather with an equally fine tweed plaid flat cap; he made his way over to the green with his putter ready in hand to give the ball a nice hard tap right into the hole.

Taking his time to line up the shot and taking in account the slight slope in the green as well the small but sometimes forceful breeze, he gripped his putter and pulled back to make his putt when a sharp pain suddenly shot through his thigh. Immediately he dropped the putter and paid no mind to the fact that his golf ball was no where's where near where he was aiming for. "What the hell.." he groaned and bit his lip as he held a hand over his thigh. With his smart diagnostic mind, he tried to flip through his mental rolodex of diagnosis and causes.

The first that got his attention was cramping. He _had_ been doing a lot of activity lately.. but this felt different. This felt like no cramp or sore muscle he had ever had before. He took a deep and shaky breath as he forced himself to stay on his feet. He glanced up; his eyes started to squint in pain as he looked up and noticed where his ball had landed.

Piss shot.

Now fighting the urge to cry out in pain, he made his way over to his golf bag and fished out his cell phone and dialed the first number that snapped into his mind as he tried to sit down. He didn't answer. The second was just as burned into his memory as the first. She didn't answer either. "Dammit!" he barked when he remembered that Stacy didn't answer because she was in court fighting for her current client. What the hell was happening to him? He tried the first number but again got the same results as before: no answer, no ringing, just straight to the voice mail. "You've reached Dr. Wilson, please leave a message and I'll get back to you."

House's pride took a vacation when he felt yet another stab in his thigh that felt as if someone shoved a knife right into his muscle. "Why the _hell_ aren't you answering your phone!" He growled irritated into the receiver, but couldn't hold back his sob, he didn't care anymore. "You're not answering your home phone, your cell... I need you to bring me to the hospital... my leg.." He hissed loudly as he moved his painful leg over to try and get into a better position. "Wilson, please just answer your phone! Stacy can't bring me, she's not here... Dammit! You're probably not even here either! You're at your mother in-laws... Shit.. Dammit!"

He hung up the phone and tossed it a foot or so away from him. He knew he had to do something, this wasn't normal in the least.. something was very wrong. With that he took a deep breath and held it as he forced himself to stand, grabbed his phone and his bag of golf clubs and forced himself to endure the pain as he made the trek back to his rented golf cart.

--

The drive to the Princeton General (which was the closest hospital) was insane and House really didn't know how he was able to make it to the hospital's parking lot without being pulled over for a DUI or speeding. Next to that was the wait in the clinic. House's golf glove worked as a wonder substitute for a rag to bite on. He knew he should be in the emergency room, but he also knew how that worked. It was less time spent in the clinic than in the emergency room.

It seemed like an eternity had gone by before his name was called. He made his way into the exam room and sat down on the table and waited for his doctor. It was all too much, the pain was getting so extreme he couldn't keep himself calm anymore. Something was wrong and someone had better figure it out right now.

It was a few minutes later a doctor walked in while reading House's chart. "So, House, our leg hurts?" He glanced up to find House rocking back and fourth on the exam table clutching his leg as he bit down as hard as he could on his golf glove. Even now he still refused to be the one crying out in pain. "So tell me what happened."

House didn't like one bit that this guy was going for what happened. Couldn't he read it off his damn chart? He spat out his glove with his voice loud with pain. "Read the fucking chart!"

"Sir, I need to hear from you what happened-" before he could even finish House let out a yell of pain.

"FUCKING DO SOMETHING!! MY LEG HURTS!!" He let out another yell and kept rocking back and forth clutching his thigh tightly as his doctor still tried to get information out of his patient about any other pains and aches, but it was no use. House was in too much pain at this point to help out in any way. "What the hell is wrong with me?!" by this point a nurse ran in to check on what all the noise was about when he told her to go fetch him some Demerol.

Again while she was gone he tried to pry more information from House but only got moaning and cries of pain in return. It wasn't long before the nurse returned with a syringe ready to do. The doctor took it. "Sir! Are you allergic to any pain medications? Anything like –"

"FUCKING HELP ME!!"

"I WILL, SIR! I JUST NEED TO KNOW IF YOU'RE –" And in mid sentence House snatched the syringe and jabbed it into his own leg before the surprised doctor could even react. It didn't take long for the medication to take affect with House lying back against the exam table much more placid and calm.

Relieved blue eyes slowly looked up at the doctor, almost smiling, "thank you, I feel much better now.." and with that he let go of the syringe he had clutched tightly in his hand with it falling to the floor. Still bewildered at what had just happened, the doctor bent over and retrieved the syringe from the floor and looked hard at his patient who took a deep breath and let it back out. "I'm not allergic.." he drew out as if trying to put his doctor at ease.

"When.. when did the pain start and how?"

House didn't bother looking at his doctor, He felt… nice. "I was playing golf, and my leg started hurting."

"Did you do anything that could have resulted in an injury or damage?"

"No, I was just standing there and my leg started hurting." Seeing that House wasn't in anymore pain and that it looked more like he could have been an addict looking for a fix, then doctor told him to go home and put ice on it, that it was most probably a pulled muscle from too much activity or playing golf and left to alert security about his patient.

With House not really caring about anything at the moment, he stood from the table and did his best on walking out of the exam room without a fight or help. He really was in pain, regardless to what they might think.

--

The pain didn't stay away for long. It was the next day he could feel it trying to creep its way back into his leg and into his life and before it got any worse he made his way back to Princeton General to see if he could see the same doctor from the day before. When we went to the front desk and tried to see where he might fine the said doctor he was told that Dr. Evans was making his rounds. House for once did his best to pull on a more charming side of himself and was able to coax the worker into telling him more information by explaining that he really needed to speak to him about something dealing with a case. Seeing that House was in fact a doctor, she informed him that Evans would most probably be found in the pediatric wing. With a modest nod to her he quickly made his way to Pediatrics, knowing his way quite well around Princeton General.

It didn't take long to find him finishing a conversation to what looked like to be either a colleague or an underling. House made no indications that he was here to see him, only walked up and blurted, "It hurts again."

Evans looked slightly surprised about this stranger popping up all of a sudden after his fit yesterday, but quickly pulled on a suspicious look. House ignored it. "Your leg?" He nodded. House didn't say anything as the other doctor looked him over and thought about his next course of action. "You know, you could have gotten me into a lot of trouble with that stunt you pulled yesterday."

"I was in pain and you were just standing there!" House snapped right back.

Evans narrowed his eyes and grimaced, "I was asking you if you were allergic!"

"I wasn't! So, I saved some time and just did the injection myself!" Blue eyes glared at dark hazel eyes before the doctor sighed and shook his head.

"Just don't do it again." And with that House followed the man as he noted once more, "Did it ever occur to you that your leg now hurts because you stabbed yourself with no regard with a syringe?" Turns out this guy could be rather blunt.

House liked that rather than having some doctor trying to sugar coat everything for him. "No, that doesn't explain why my leg was hurting yesterday." He walked into a room the doctor gestured him to go into.

"I'll be right back, Mr. House; I just have to get some things for some tests. If you don't mind removing you clothes and putting this on while I'm gone." Evans pulled out a clean gown and handed it to House before he turned and left. As much as he didn't like it he did as he was told and waited for his doctor to return. The pain was starting to get really bad.. like the day before. It didn't take took long until the doctor returned with a nurse. "alright, Mr. House, if you could please get on the table." He once again did as he was told as the nurse flipped off the main room light and Evans turned on an examination light. House looked over at what the nurse was doing and gave a pensive look when he was what she was handling.

"Okay, The nurse is going to insert a rubber tube up your urethra and into your bladder. It might be a tab bit.. uncomfortable."

"Shouldn't I be getting some kind of anesthetic?" House groaned and winced as he felt the nurse working on inserting the rubber tube in a not so pleasant place.

Evans gave him a knowing look and answered smartly, "We're concerned about allergic reactions today." House didn't even bark or snap back with any biting comments. If this was what it took to prove there was something wrong then he was going to deal with it.

--

It was nearly a half hour later when Evans approached the bed with his paitent's chart in his hands as he scribbled something down and clipped it back to the bed.

House glared.

"Well, it looks like you do have a little problem. It looks as if your kidneys are having some trouble." House glared again. He thought this man was above sugar coating.

"Some trouble?" he asked annoyed.

Evans nodded, "It looks like your kidneys are starting to shut down. Most probably it's an infection."

"So put me antibiotics and get me a heating pad for my leg, that doesn't explain what was wrong with my leg yesterday." he growled irritated and folded his arms.

The doctor's hazel eyes shot him a stern look. "You most probably over worked your leg. If there's an infection we'll knock it out with a course of antibiotics and if there's still a problem we'll deal with it then." House let out a sigh and shook his head as Evans left the room again. Without another thought he grabbed his phone and called Stacy.

--

"HEY! I'M NOT GETTING FUCKING BETTER!! IT'S NOT INFECTION!!" House roared loudly when he saw Evans outside his room chatting with a nurse.

Stacy tried to calm him, "Greg, calm down this isn't going to –"

He quickly cut her off, "No! I've been laying here for three fucking days and my leg is hurting worse than before!" he looked back though the glass wall at Evans. "HEY! DOCTOR EVANS!! GET IN HERE AND DO YOUR DAMN JOB!!"

"Hey!" Stacy snapped with House shooting her a glare. "Stop it! Yelling at him isn't going to help anything. The most it's going to do is piss him off and that's going to piss you off even more."

He looked back at Evans. "I'm just trying to push him to figure out what's wrong with me! If he doesn't fucking do his job it's me who suffers!" He looked out the glass once more, "DOCTOR!!"

"If you keep this up you're going to give yourself a stroke!" she fussed, it was obvious that she herself was pretty upset.

House only sighed and rolled his eyes, "You stop it, I'm not…" He paused as her statement started to get the gears in his head turning.

"What's wrong?"

He didn't answer, only opened his mental diagnostic dictionary and flipped to the entry that shot to mind from Stacy's comment.

"Greg, what is it?" she stared unnerved at her boyfriend waiting for an answer.

He sat a moment longer before finally speaking. "A clot?"

She arched her brows. "..what?" He glared and sneered before ripping the tap off his arm and working on removing his IV. "What are you doing?!" she shot in a worried voice as she stood from her chair and tried to grab hold of his arm.

He pulled out the IV.

"DR. EVANS!!" She cried out with the said doctor visibly rolling his eyes before glancing over to the room in time to get a glimpse of House working on removing his catheter with Stacy doing her best to stop him and put up a fuss. Quickly he rushed into the room.

"What do you think you're doing?!" he tried to grab hold of House and keep him from doing any damage, but Greg knew what he was doing. He was a doctor after all.

He fought and pushed him back. "GET THE FUCK OFF ME!! I'M GOING TO ANOTHER HOSPITAL!! I'M TRANSFERRING MYSELF OVER TO PRINCETON PLAINSBORO TEACHING HOSPITAL!!" he bellowed loudly. "Stacy, call Cuddy and tell her to get my records and to send someone to come and get me!"

Shaken, she nodded and reached for her phone and hastily rushed out the door. She couldn't see him like this; she didn't want to see him get himself hurt.

"TELL HER I NEED AN MRI, TOO!!" He called after her before Evans took the sedative from the nurse and jabbed the syringe into House's arm. It didn't take long for the medication to take affect with the frustrated diagnostician falling asleep.

--

When he woke up he found himself in a different room. "Oh, thank god, you're awake." Stacy breathed relieved as she leaned in and kissed him a good few times. He winced and squeezed his blue eyes shut tight before reopening them again.

"I'm fine.. Where am I?"

"You're at work, sadly." He quickly turned his head at the voice from the doorway that was followed by the familiar sound of heels. His eyes followed her to the foot of his bed. "How are you feeling?" Her grey eyes stared worryingly.

"Like shit.." he ran his dry tongue over his equally dry lips. "Hey, is there some water or something near by? My mouth feels like a desert." He barely turned his head to look at Stacy with her giving a small nod and reaching over to the small table next to her and grabbed a bottle of water.

"here." She handed him the bottle with him holding to it tightly, he fought to bring it to his mouth to take a sip. She watched with a heavy heart and gently ran a hand over his dark hair. She knew he would never let her do it for him.

Cuddy made her way to the side of his bed that Stacy sat on to get a little closer and explain what was found. Absently she clutched his chart close to her. "The MRI revealed a problem."

He scoffed. "Pff, no kidding." He didn't even look at her.

"I'm sorry none of your doctors found it earlier; I'm personally going to oversee your treatment from now on." She assured him

He took a deep breath, "You're gonna cut me open, aren't you?"

She pursed her lips before answering him. She had to remember this wasn't anyone else at this hospital, this was House. She knew he wanted her to be straight forward about everything and no stalling. "We may need to remove the leg." She saw that look in his eyes. His whole world was starting to crash down. "We have to do the surgery. The necrotic tissue has to be removed. If there's too much –"

"I don't care what you find." He stared up at the ceiling.

"It may become necessary in order to save your life."

He pulled his gaze from the ceiling to look at her. "I like my leg. I've had it for as long as I can remember."

"Honey, I love your leg as much as you do." Stacy assured as she leaned forward and laid her hand over his.

"They're not cutting it off."

She took a deep breath and tried to think of what else to say. She then tried to tell herself that this wasn't House, this was a regular patient. She had to think along those lines and push out the worry of being his boss. "Amazing advances have been made. Kids with prosthetic legs are running the 100-meter dash in twelve seconds."

He scrunched his face at the thought of metal legs dashing around an Olympic sized track. " Yeah, they're just not as pretty." He gave her another look before getting straight down to business as if making sure to remind Cuddy not to forget who she was talking to. "Do a bypass, restore the circulation."

"Amputation is safer."

"For you, or me?"

"The blockage of blood flow –"

He quickly cut her off again, "Four-day blockage."

One could see the guilt on her face. It wasn't her fault in the least.. but it still felt like it was."Yes." She then tried to explain what going on for Stacy's benefit. "It caused muscle cell death. When those cells die, they release cytokines and potassium –"

"If you restore the blood flow instead of just lopping it all off, then all that crap gets washed back into my system. The cytokines could cause organ failure, the potassium could cause cardiac arrest. On the other hand, I may just get the use of my leg back." It was obvious by the pained and worried look on Stacy's expression that what he had just described did nothing to help her feel at ease. She stood from her chair and walked over to the door and brought her hand to her mouth. She couldn't bare any of this. He was so stubborn. Doesn't he know Cuddy was trying to help?

"The post-operative pain alone –"

"I'll get through it. I understand the risks, you're in the clear." He glanced over at Stacy the back to Cuddy. "Go schedule an OR."

Taking a breath and trying not to think of what the consequences could turn out to be for his decision, Cuddy turned and left the room as Stacy made her way closer to the bed.

"God, you're an idiot." She pointed out annoyed.

He furrowed his brow in confusion to why she would jump on him like this but quickly played it off as him thinking on a more correct term. "I think I'm more of a jerk."

She stood beside his bed, her hands on her hips, "I'm not being glib. And I'm not being cute; I don't want you to kill yourself."

"I'm not gonna die." He turned his eyes back to the ceiling.

"Oh," She tossed her hands in disbelief, "I feel completely reassured." And with that she sat down back in her chair and watching him with a devastatingly worried expression.

He couldn't bear to look.

--

House was able to be scheduled in for surgery later that day and with each minute that passed the more Stacy worried. She knew how stubborn her boyfriend could be but she really didn't like the fact that he was leaving it all up to chance just to keep his leg. Sure she would want to keep her leg had see been faced with the same thing.. but she wouldn't risk the possibility of death for it. She wasn't done living and didn't want her boyfriend to be either.

It was an hour or so before the surgery He asked her to get a marker and write on his leg. "What?"

"It's a sure fire way to keep a surgeon for removing the wrong body part. If you write not to cut this leg off then they'll know not to.. and just cut the other off. They're just so eager to chop a limb off that they'll not read the chart right or something and cut off the wrong leg."

"So… you're going to let them cut off your leg?" she asked quietly as she dug in her purse for a marker.

He snorted, "Hell no! I want you to write _not this leg_ on both so they know not to cut any of my legs off. They can't have them!" He barked playfully. He wanted her to cheer up. He hated seeing her like this. But it didn't seem to help any. When surgery finally came everything seemed to go well enough. House returned with both legs and no clot. Stacy knew all there was to do know was wait.

When he did finally wake up nothing was sunbeams and rainbows. The pain was excruciating and the morphine didn't seem like it was helping at all. He let out a yell of pain and fought to take in every breath. He had never felt a pain more horrible.

Stacy rewet the cool rag she had been using to cool his face and dabbed it against his temple and cheek."I think they.. gotta up that morphine." He panted hard as he tried to not think about the pain but to no use; it was too extreme to forget.

"The doctors say they can't."

"doctors recommended.. bed rest and antibiotics!"

"Just because they screwed up at the other hospital doesn't mean they're wrong this time." She picked up his cup of water.

"Sure doesn't mean they're right."

"Morphine will kill you."

"I can handle it." He tried to be reassuring, but it was hard when he could hardly get in a breath for all the pain.

"You're in pain, you're not thinking right."

"That's why I need the damn morphine!"

She flinched from his yelling and put the cup down quickly. "Okay, I'll talk to them." And with that she grabbed up her blazer from the bed and rushed off to find Cuddy. It didn't have her long to find Cuddy; she was standing at the nurses' station checking about one of her other patients. "Dr. Cuddy?"

She turned with her expression turning worried when she saw who it was. "How is he?"

"He's in so much pain." She answered quietly. "How much longer is it going to last?"

"It depends on how much muscle cell death there was. He could be right; he could come out of this with almost full use of his leg."

"Or?"

Cuddy bit her lip, "He could be in pain for the rest of his life." Stacy looked away in the direction of House's room and took a hard swallow. "There's a third option, surgically. A middle ground between what we did and amputation."

She scoffed "He's not big on middle ground."

Cuddy glanced down the hall as well. "Yeah."

--

It's was late; around 2:30am late when something seemed amiss. Stacy had gone home to rest on House's urging. Though she was reluctant to leave she knew she had work in the morning and hanging around here all night wasn't going to help. So with her goodbyes being said she took her leave with House having to keep himself entertained.

This was when he noticed something was off. With a shaky hand he reached over to the EKG machine and pushed the print button for the seventh time that night. At first he was doing it just to keep himself entertained.. but after a few prints he noticed something was wrong. He grabbed the new printout and compared it to some of the previous ones.

Something was definitely wrong.

"Nurse.. Nurse..?" She appeared surprisingly quick. "I need more calcium gluconate."

"You just had 5 mLs."

It was obvious he was having trouble breathing, "Either your ass is getting whiter or my potassium is rising."

"I'll talk to your doctor."

She turned to leave before he started again. "Well, you better make it fast, cause I'm about to go into cardiac arrest. You give me the dose, or I go into white count complex tachycardia."

"I could get in trouble –"

"Listen, it's not a narcotic! I'm not looking for a buzz. You've got about twenty seconds." Just as the words left his lips his breathing quickened and the monitors started to go off. "I was wrong…" and like that he was out. It took nearly a minute and a half to get him stable with the use of a defibrillator and more calcium gluconate. He was technically dead for 72 seconds of the whole ordeal.

After everything was back to acceptable levels Stacy was called and informed of what had happened. It didn't take her long to return to the hospital. She was dressed in a simple pair of pants and a light blue shirt. It was obviously that she came as soon as she hung up the phone. She put down her purse and sat down in the chair next to his bed. He didn't even move his head to look at her. His whole body hurt by this point.

"How bad is the pain right now?"

He let out a sob and turned to her. "It's bad." His voice was hardly above a whisper.

"It's not getting any better. If you were right, the pain would be subsiding. You'd be getting better."

"It's just taking longer."

"No, it's not. We've got to let him cut the leg off."

He turned to her again, his eyes sad. He hated that he was making her this upset. He just hoped she that she doesn't start crying. "It's my leg. It's my life."

"Would you give up your leg to save my life?" she asked desperately. She already knew what his answer was going to be.

"Of course I would." He breathed.

"Then why do you think your life is worth less than mine? If this were any other patient, what would you tell them to do?"

"I would say it's their choice."

"Wha..? Not a chance! You'd browbeat them until they made the choice you knew was right. You'd shove it in their face that it's just a damn leg!" He could hear in her voice that she was close to tears. "You don't think you deserve to live? You don't think you deserve to be happy? Not let them cut off your leg?"

He let out a quiet sob but tried his best not to shed a tear. "I can't, I can't, I'm sorry."

She took in a shaky breath, "The pain alone is going to kill you."

"I know, I know." He took a hard swallow. "I need you to talk to Cuddy." She nodded and bit her lip.

--

Stacy did as she was asked and spoke to Cuddy and told her that House wanted to be put in a medically induced coma so he could sleep through the worse of it. She agreed and said that could be done but when Stacy told her about the plan she had thought up things didn't seem as great.

"I'm his health-care proxy; I get to make medical decisions for him if he's not able to."

Cuddy didn't even try to hide the look of disapproval on her face. "You should talk to him about what he wants to do."

"I know what he wants, but if he's out it's my call, right?" Cuddy let out a small nod before standing up to get what she needed to put House in a coma like he asked. Stacy sat a few more minutes before making her way back to House's room.

"Did you talk to her?" House asked quietly when she sat back down at the chair next to his bed.

She nodded, "Yes, she's getting everything." He didn't say anything on the matter just nodded. And like she had said, Cuddy returned with a cocktail filled syringe and pushed it through his IV.

"You'll be out in less than a minute." She worked on removing her rubber gloves before she walked to the foot of his bed and took his chart to write down what she had given him.

House quietly thanked her and turned to Stacy. "Hey."

"Hey." She tried to smile.

He smiled, too."I'll see you when I wake up." She nodded, "We'll go golfing." She let out a hushed laugh as he continued. "I love you."

"I love you, too... I'm sorry."

He furrowed his brow as he fought to keep his eyes open, "You've got nothing to be sorry abo.." He fell asleep without even finishing his statement. With a quiet sob, she reached out and touched his face before standing up and making her way to Cuddy.

"The middle ground you were talking about?"

"We go in, take out the dead muscle. There's still some risk of reperfusion injury, but –"

She quickly cut her off. She needed to do this before she lost her nerve. "Give me the forms you need signed."

"You're saving his life." Cuddy tried to be reassuring, but it was no use.

"He won't see it that way." Stacy said sadly as she stared sadly at her boyfriend. He was going to hate her for this, but if that meant saving his life than so be it. She didn't care if he could never forgive her what she was about to do to him. She was going to sacrifice everything for him.

She loved him that much.


	29. She Ruined Me with Her Signature

--

_**CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT:**__ She Ruined Me with Her Signature _

_--  
_

"I can't believe I forgot my phone charger." Wilson said out loud but mostly to himself as he worked on opening the plastic packaging that held a newly purchased charger. "But you know, you can never have enough chargers, they're so easy to lose." Bonnie didn't say anything as he brushed her dark black hair and listened to her husband go on about a phone charger.

Once getting it free of it's packaging, Wilson untwisted the ties around the cord and unraveled it before digging into his pocket and pulling out his dead cell phone. It didn't take long to find a free outlet. He plugged everything in and turned on his phone as he went to change into his sleeping attire, but the sound of his phone chiming about new messages put his clothes on hold.

Taking a peek at the screen he noticed he had three messages. Not knowing exactly who they were from, he pushed the enter key and brought the phone up to his ear to listen. "You have three unheard messages, Message one, Saturday, 3:25pm: 'Why the _hell _aren't you answering your phone? You're not answering your home phone, your cell...'" Brown eyes grew wide with fear with a quiet gasp escaping his lips.

At that moment, Bonnie turned to him.

"James, what's wrong?" He didn't answer his mouth was slightly open, his eyes wide as he tried to take everything in that House was saying. At that moment, Wilson knew it was bad. Dr. Greg House doesn't lower himself to plead for help unless he's suddenly swallowed his pride... Greg House _never_ swallows his pride.

In the message House hangs up and Wilson feels the hair on the back of his neck stand up. This was bad, really, really bad. "Message two, Friday, 2:52am: "Dr. Wilson, it's Cuddy. I don't know if you know what's going on here but if you get this you should come back to Princeton, it's House. He's had an infarction in his right thigh and refused to have the leg removed, only the clot. He needs to remove the leg; you're the only one he'll listen to. He's already gone into cardiac arrest once. Call me when you get this."

"James?"

He quickly held up a hand as if to tell her to hold on with Bonnie shrugging it off and continuing on brushing her hair. He took a deep breath as he tried to hold onto his emotion and keep a firm grip on the phone that his hands threatened to lose hold of. He was afraid to hear the third message. "Message three, Friday, 4:26pm: "James? Hi, it's Stacy. I would have called a lot sooner, but I've been so busy with Greg, he's in the hospital.. God, I wish he wasn't so stubborn! He's killing himself and he refuses to stop it! I was calling because I need someone to talk to.. I.. I think I might know how to get him to have the surgery he needs.. He needs to have his leg removed but he refuses up and down. He's been talking about being put in a coma so he can sleep through the pain. Well, if he's asleep and can't make medical decisions, that means I can make them for him.. Right? I need to talk to someone about this. You know him better than most people..I'll try back later."

Wilson couldn't move. He couldn't even get himself to hang up the phone. House was in the hospital.. He's had an infarction.. He's killing himself.. Stacy's had some plan that was probably going to result in more bad than good. Finally when he forced himself to move he immediately dropped his phone onto the carpeted floor getting Bonnie's attention once again.

"James, what's wrong?" She turned around in her chair and saw that look on her husband's face. Whatever it was it was serious.

Wilson slowly bent over to retrieve the phone before finally met Bonnie's concerned gaze. "Wha?" His mind was still fuzzy.

"Who was that?"

He shook his head to get himself back to reality before looking at her again. "It's House." He knew he needed to leave and now. At that moment he needed to do ten things at one time and with him still not all the way there he started in one direction but stopped himself in favor for another task but stopped himself again.

"What does he want?"

He stopped, "Bonnie.. I'm sorry I have to go."

She sighed, irritated. "He needs you to open a jar or something?"

He shot her a glare, "He's in the hospital, something really wrong with his leg..."

"He doesn't need you by his bedside about his leg does he?" She was very annoyed. Leave it to House to have something wrong with him when she had finally gotten Wilson out to her parents out for a week. A few days in and House pulls that invisible leash that seemed to be tied around her husband's neck.

"Bonnie, this is serious!" He yelped and quickly went about grabbing all this things and tossing them into his open suitcase.

"James!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I. Have. To. Go." She folded her arms in protest but didn't push it farther. She just made sure to make a note of it and to hate House even that little much more. That didn't mean Wilson was off the hook either.

As quickly as he could he tried to get everything he needed together and into his suitcase. Not having time to be as orderly as possible he just settled for tossing everything into his bag and only hoped that he was able to close it when all was said and done. He also pulled on his shoes and grabbed his phone and charger as well as called a taxi. Sure, the phone only had good ten or so minutes to charge, but it was enough to get him by if he didn't use it too much. He was sure he could find a power outlet at the airport.

Once finished, he held his bag and went to Bonnie who was washing her face for bed. "I'm going, tell your parents I'm sorry and that if was nice to see them again." He placed a peck on her temple. "I'll call you when I get there." She didn't say anything. Wilson only sighed, "Bye."

She wasn't in the mood to talk to him. She didn't understand why a man like James would even choose to be around him much less bend-over backwards to his every whim. "Damn Greg House." she muttered angrily to herself.

--

Once situated in the cab Wilson called Cuddy to see about what was going on. She explained about everything that happened from the golf course to the middle ground surgery that House was nearly finished in. He didn't know that Cuddy was leaving about one very important detail about Stacy's sneaky plan, but she really didn't think it was that important at that moment.

He simply assured her that he was on his way and that he should be there in no time being that he was headed for the airport as they spoke and that he was willing to pay whatever price was being offered to fly into Newark.

"Good..He's going to need a friend when he wakes up. He'll be happy to see you."

The comment seemed a little strange, but Wilson didn't try to dig deeper into it. Wasn't Stacy there to be his support? Whatever was going on he knew he would find out when he got there. Right now he found it best to keep his mind on getting back to Princeton as quickly as he could.

--

It was 1:30am when Wilson raced into PPTH and rushed into an elevator to find his friend. It didn't take long until he found Cuddy chatting with Morrison, on of the hospital's best surgeons. "Hey, is he awake yet?" He asked close to being out of breath.

She shook her head, "No, not yet, but it should be pretty soon."

"Where's Stacy? Is she with him now?"

He didn't miss that look on her face. "No, she's in the bathroom… she's..not ready to face him just yet. She's still upset about having to sign off on the surgery. She saved his life."

"Do you want me to go talk to her?"

"No, it's best if he doesn't wake up alone. I'll go talk to her, you go to his room: it's 438." He gave a quick nod and did as he was told. When he reached the room he quietly pushed the sliding door, stepped in and took a hard swallow at the sight of his friend. In just a few days the poor guy had been to hell and back and was still holding on. He hated seeing House worn so thin. He took a seat at the chair next to the bed and simply waited.

About ten minutes of silence and Wilson absentmindedly messing with his wedding ring, it was the sound of rustling sheets that caught his attention. His first reaction was to get Stacy but he quickly sat back down in his chair. It was best someone be around when he finally woke up. It didn't take long for blue eyes opened and blinked once or twice before turning to see if anyone else was in the room.

When he caught sight of Wilson sitting next to him a slow but genuine smile made its way on his face. "Hey."

Wilson smiled back, "Hey."

"Look what happened, Jimmy," He spoke in a quiet raspy voice, "the second you leave everything goes straight to hell." He let out a weak chuckle, but when he turned to Wilson again he was unnerved by that look of worry on his friend's face. "What are you so sad about? I'm alive, aren't I?"

But it was the overall look of sadness and worry that now shown on Wilson's face that made him start to worry. What was it now? Was he bleeding?

"Is something wrong with my face?" He asked as he reached up and felt to make sure nothing was out of the norm. It was obvious that Wilson was trying hard to suddenly hide his worry.

He shook his head, "You're face is fine. You look like shit, but other than that it's fine."

"Then what's got you so upset?"

Wilson stared baffled at how oblivious he seemed. "The surgery..?"

"Removing the clot? What about it, you should know that's nothing to worry about. Jeez, Jimmy, you call yourself a do –"

"No, the other surgery."

"–ctor…what other surgery?" House stared at him suspiciously as Wilson stared back with that same worried expression. He slowly pulled his eyes from his friend over to the sheet of his bed. Everything looked alright enough; he could plainly see the shape of two legs under the sheets. Sure his leg hurt, not as much as it did before, but it did hurt and actually at the moment just about everything hurt, especially his chest. When he turned back to meet Wilson's gaze what he saw in those brown eyes scared him. His expression cried that he was at a complete loss.

House didn't know; he didn't realize it yet. He didn't know the surgery took place... he didn't know they cut out part of his thigh.

He knew something was terribly wrong. He couldn't really feel that much pain, it wasn't as extreme as like what he was feeling before they put him in the coma, but if anything, Wilson should be happy. Curiously he pulled himself up into a sitting position, picked up the bed sheets and saw the bandages over his thigh. They didn't... They wouldn't...

Quickly with no regard, House ripped off the bandage revealing his newly mangled thigh stitched up and less what it was before he went to sleep. "House, don't!" Wilson yelped and jumped like he was going to stop him but decided against it. He had to find out somehow. It was best he found out his own way.

"What the hell.." He trailed off as he started absently at his leg. How could they do this to him? How could they go behind his back and do this to him? How could they betray him? With a shaky hand he reached out to touch it. There was no way this could be real.. this had to be a very, very bad dream.

When his fingers met the angry red stitches he flinched not from the pain but the feeling of it. It was real, this was no nightmare. This was reality at its worse. Shocked and scared blue eyes turned to Wilson for an explanation.

"House, listen –"

"I told them no.." he turned his attention back to his thigh and touched it again. "I only wanted to sleep through the pain. That's it!"

It was becoming obvious by the tone of his voice that House was starting to get over the shock and was heading right into rage. "Listen, she was only doing what she thought was right! She was trying to save your life!" He quickly shot up from his chair to grab some fresh bandages.

"WHAT THE FUCK DID THEY DO TO ME?!" House roared furiously at Wilson. "WHY THE HELL DIDN'T YOU STOP THEM?!"

He quickly spun around to face him. "Hey! I wasn't here!" he shot back, "Don't go blaming this on me!"

"I DIDN'T FUCKING ASK FOR THIS!! I DIDN'T WANT ANYTHING REMOVED!!"

"THEN STOP TAKING IT OUT ON ME DAMMIT!!" He shouted back defensively before he took a deep breath and tried to regain his lost composure. "And stop picking at your stitches! Here, let me wrap it back up before you end up doing more –"

"DON'T FUCKING TOUCH ME!!"

But he quickly lost it again. "GREG! I'M YOUR FRIEND!! I'M NOT TRYING TO HURT YOU!"

Of course, it didn't take long before Cuddy rushed in to see what all the commotion was about. "What's going on here?!"

"YOU!" He snapped, "HOW FUCKING DARE YOU! YOU KNEW WHAT I FUCKING WANTED!! YOU KNEW I DIDN'T WANT THIS!! I'M GOING TO SUE THIS DAMN HOSPITAL FOR EVERYTHING!!" He roared at Cuddy, who didn't bother to hide the look of shock on her face.

His face was red from all his yelling and furry. He was a force to be reckoned with. "Stacy was your proxy!! She signed the forms to do the surgery!!" Right as the words left her mouth he froze as he narrowed his eyes and furrowed his brows in confusion.

"What.. What did you say.." he asked cautiously. There's no way he heard her right.

Cuddy gave a nod and replied sadly, "Stacy signed the papers after you were given the drugs. She okayed the surgery." He sat there in a daze. There's no way she would have done something like that.. There was no way she would condone something that he didn't want. She knew what he wanted.

_**I love you.. I'm sorry.**_

Suddenly it all came crashing down. When Wilson said _she_ he automatically thought he was referring to Cuddy..not Stacy. He couldn't believe it; she planned it from the beginning, she signed those forms the second he closed his eyes. She betrayed him; with one little scribble of a pen she was able to take it all away. No longer was he Greg House, the brilliantly handsome doctor.. but the guy everyone pitied because of his limp.

He felt cheated.

He quickly brought his hands to his face and let out a loud yell before shouting out furiously, "FUCK OFF!! ALL OF YOU!!"

"GREG, CALM DOWN!" Wilson demanded loudly. Maybe Cuddy was right; he may be the only one he'll listen to.

"FUCK YOU, WILSON!!" …maybe not. "YOU'RE NOT THE ONE WHO'S MISSING PART OF HIS FUCKING LEG!!"

"House, please calm down!" He ordered firmly with a softer tone. All this yelling was hurting his throat. Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of Cuddy getting a hold of some sedatives.

"PLEASE SHUT THE FUCK UP, WILSON!!"

He took a deep breath before shaking his head. "Greg, please don't make me do this." He pleaded in a quiet but stern voice as he took the sedative from Cuddy. House should know better than anyone that he would sedate him in a heartbeat. If it was going to help him in anyway he was going to do it.

House wasn't going to call him on it.

"SHE RUINED ME!" He cried out before conceding with a defeated sob, "She fucking ruined me..!" He closed his eyes and turned his face up toward the ceiling, his expression pained and full of agony.

Wilson sighed and handed the sedative back to Cuddy before he walked over to the small table and retrieved the fresh bandages he had put down in the uproar. "I know… I know she did." He spoke softly as he calmly approached the bed. "I, I need to replace your bandages. Is that alright?"

"I don't care." Was his heartbroken reply.

Wilson pursed his lips and gave a small nod as he delicately set to work on rewrapping the exposed stitches. On seeing that Wilson had everything under control and that House was done lashing out for the moment, Cuddy left to tell Stacy that it would probably be best if she went home for the night. If House saw her he was going to rip her to shreds. He needed time to cool off.

--

Wilson watched the sleeping figure sadly. It wanted to think badly of Stacy for doing what she had... but he was stuck between what to think. Sure, she went behind his back and betrayed him as one would say... but he's alive. He's going to live. But he's going to have trouble with his leg... but he's alive.

That's all James kept telling himself. House was alive but that didn't seem to matter to the man himself. Stacy had gone home for the night after House woke up and discovered what had happened all behind his back. She couldn't handle House's vicious words and sharp remarks of betrayal just yet. Not after she had to make the tough decision in the first place to keep him alive.

It's hard to take such a lashing from the one you love and the man you saved after you've come so close to losing him.

So it was Wilson who was more or less sitting in watching House and making sure everything was alright and in the norm. The man himself was sleeping, and it was a soft whimper that had caused Wilson to put down the medical journal he was reading. Still asleep, it seemed House was having a nightmare of some sort.

Without thinking, Wilson reached out and placed his hand gently against House's face. It seemed to be what he needed, because a small moment later his distressed expression faded back to a peaceful one. "House... Greg," He whispered softly as he took his hand away, "I'm so sorry. I should have been here.. I shouldn't have let them hurt you like this."

He knew if House had been awake he would have fussed him about showing such sympathy. Then he'd been the one taking the lashing instead of Stacy. But if it did come to that it didn't matter. House could yell anything he wanted at him all he wanted.

He wasn't leaving again.

--

It was a good few hours later before Stacy returned to the hospital and everything went haywire very quickly. Right when she stepped foot into the room and right when House noticed he tore right into her as expected. So much for cooling off first. Wilson had never heard such hateful and cruel things come from that man's mouth before, sure he had said a few tings that he himself would never repeat.. but this was on a completely different level entirely.

He wanted her to hurt; he wanted her to be in as much pain as he was no matter how cruel it was.

Of course things started to get out of control and House had to be sedated as Cuddy work on consoling Stacy. Wilson knew he should help Cuddy, but he couldn't. As much as he didn't want to admit it out loud, he was just as upset as House was toward her. She had no right to take his life away like she had. He wasn't going to comfort her.. he was afraid that he was going to tear her down as well.

Though Wilson didn't want to leave, he knew he had to. It was 5:30am and he hadn't gotten much if any sleep sitting in that chair making sure to keep a close eye on his friend. Not wanting to venture far in case he was needed for anything he opted to sleep on the sofa in his office. He had done it a few times when he and Gina were fighting and didn't want to pester House for a place to sleep. Sleep wasn't that hard to find, but it didn't stay that way. Only about an hour or two passed before a nightmare dealing with he and House and the current events woke him and left him shaken and scared. In his mind he saw what the future was going to be like.. and the last thing is was was pretty.

He shot up from his position on the couch and out of breath. He could swear it still felt like he was holding onto him, begging him not do end it all. When he wasn't alone he was able to hold himself together and keep everything under control and in check, but behind the closed doors of his office mixed with a very bad dream it was a different story. When he felt it he tried so hard to stay strong and to not let his emotions take hold of him, but it was no use. Even as he bit the side of his mouth to try and stop it he couldn't it was all too much. Once that sob managed to escape it was all over. Next thing he knew he was sitting on the couch of his office with his legs pulled off the floor as he cried.

Sure, he felt like a fool crying alone in his office but he couldn't help it. His best friend in the world, most probably the one person who knew him better than anyone else (even Michael) had almost died while he was gone, and if that wasn't enough he was most probably going to be in pain for the rest of his life. Everyday he was going to see the pain in those sad blue eyes that he could have possibly prevented had he not let Bonnie talk him into leaving.

He also knew he was starting drift from rational thought into the irrational. He knew he didn't know what was going to happen, and that none of this was his fault.. but that didn't stop him from feeling guilty.

Suddenly all at once he felt like the worst friend in the world.

Knowing he needed reassurance he pulled out his phone and speed dialed the one person he knew he could talk to about anything in the world. "Jack speaking."

Wilson furrowed his brows and quickly tried to calm himself down. "Dad?" He sniffed. That wasn't right. He must have hit the wrong speed dial command.

"Jim, is that you? What's wrong?" Jack's voice was filled with concern. He never heard his son sound like this before.

Wilson wiped his eyes and sniffed again, "Sorry, I was trying to call Michael.."

"What's up?"

"I.. I needed someone to talk to…" for a moment he thought about just hanging up the phone without explaining. He didn't like talking to his father about House, he was always so afraid he might let something slip, but just hanging up on Jack wouldn't make the situation any better. "House, er.. Greg is in the hospital." As he got the words out he felt his emotions run wild once again leaving him in tears trying to explain everything that happened within the past week to his father.

Mixed with tears and the quick speed at which his son was talking Jack only understood about half of what Wilson was trying to explain. He was at least able to make out that they were both at PPTH. After a little more was said, Jack let his son go as he requested.

Wilson felt a small bit better but nervous all the same. He knew his father was one of the men who thought there was no shame in tears.. but that didn't mean he felt the same. He felt like a fool crying on the phone while talking to his father.

He was heartbroken. Not only had his friend almost died, this was something that was probably going to bother him for the rest f his life, and not only that his girlfriend went behind his back and ordered the surgery even though she knew he would rather die than have it done. Every time he thought about his friend the more the pain in his heart grew.

A good fifteen minutes went by as he on the couch in tears. In an effort to try and stop himself he clenched the muscles in his jaw to quell his tears. It felt like it was working.

A few seconds later there was a knock at the door. He knew he looked like a mess, but he had reason. And there was no way he was going to clean himself up in two seconds. "Come in." Slowly the door opened revealing a familiar face. "Dad?"

"Hey, Jim. How are you?" Wilson tried to smile, but anyone could see that it was forced.

"What are you doing here?" he quickly tried to wipe away his tears. Having his father hear him on the phone crying was one thing, to have the man see it in person made him feel like a disgrace.

Jack walked in as Wilson moved his legs from the couch and onto the floor to give his father a place to sit. Jack took the offered seat. "I was actually in the area when you called. I had just finished lunch with an old colleague of mine." He reached out and gave his son a friendly and comforting pat on the back before keeping his hand on his shoulder. "How are you feeling?"

Jack didn't have to explain exactly what he meant by the question, Wilson lived with this man long enough to understand what he was up to.

"I'm fine… I'm just.. upset." He sighed, "and disappointed."

"Who are you mad at, Jim?"

"Myself."

"You didn't do this to Greg, why are you mad at yourself?" Wilson thought his father should have followed through with his schooling to be a psychologist, but on second thought, it might be a good thing he hadn't.

"I wasn't here."

"That's why you're disappointed too?"

"No, I'm disappointed because after they put him in a coma, Stacy turned around and told the doctors to do the surgery. She shouldn't have done that.. gone behind his back. She should have done what he said."

Seeing that his son was starting to become upset, he tried to see if talking about medical things would possibly help keep him calmed. "What did they do? The procedure, that is."

"Well, House had an infarction in his right thigh muscle... a clot caused an aneurism that led to the muscle in his thigh to die and was excruciatingly painful, so much so the pain alone could have killed him.. but there was a procedure that came up. _The Middle Ground_ they were calling it. Where they would take out the dead muscle and he would get to keep his leg and live. He didn't want that. He wanted to be able to walk and live as he did before. So he asked to be put in a medically induced coma, so he could pass that part and not be in so much pain. But when they put him out, Stacy turned around and told the doctors to do the procedure. He wasn't going to do it! He didn't want to!!"

Jack could see his son was upset, he didn't agree with Stacy's actions one bit. Wilson respected other people's decisions to no end. So, if House wanted to take that risk, his son wouldn't have gone against it. "If the doctors knew he didn't want to procedure done, how were they able to do it?"

Wilson took a deep breath to try and calm himself down. He may have been able to stop crying, but he knew it wasn't going to take much to get him started back again. "She was his medical proxy. So, when he was asleep and unable to make decisions for himself she jumped on the chance and ordered the surgery." He reached back and rubbed the back of his neck. "I heard someone described it once," Wilson said softly, Jack could hear him chocking up again. "They said it feels like someone taking a red hot iron poker and pushing it deep into the affected area. That's all day. Every second of everyday until he dies!" James pulled his hands to his face but kept on even passed the tears. "He's going to be in excruciating pain for the rest of his life! And painkillers will just barley be able to take the edge off!" He was trying his hardest not to cry, even biting the inside of his mouth again. "I should have listened to him. I shouldn't have gone on that trip! I could have helped him figure it out sooner!!"

"James, listen. I know you feel bad, but think about how Stacy feels. She's the one who ordered the procedure." He draped an arm around his son's shoulders again. "The pain you're feeling probably doesn't even come close to hers."

But that didn't help. "Yeah. He wants nothing to do with her at the moment. She betrayed him."

"In a way, you should be thankful you weren't here." Wilson turned to his father with an appalled look.

"W-what?"

"What would've you done had you been in her shoes?" Wilson looked to the floor as his mind tried to think, but he found that increasingly hard. "Would you have guaranteed his life and had the surgery done or would you have sat it out and left it all to chance?"

"I..." he swallowed hard. Again, he hated crying but what he hated even more was crying in front of his father. Even though his father was the type of man to say there's no shame in crying, it still made him feel less a man for it. "I.. wouldn't have betrayed him."

"Even if that meant he could die?"

"It was **his** decision! It was up to **him** whether he wanted to have his muscle removed or not!" Wilson yelled angrily. "It was his decision if he wanted to be in pain the rest of his life!!" He was upset with her too; she shouldn't have gone behind him back like that; she should have listened to what he wanted. If House was going to die, he was going to die the way he wanted and not be in the pain he was in and was going to be in for the rest of his life.

In Wilson's mind she hadn't done him a favor, she only brought his misery.

He'd probably wish he were dead.

"And what would you have done had he died?"

"Worse."

Jack stood and grabbed the box of tissues from Wilson's desk and handed the box to his son. "And why's that?"

"Because I would have been in Maine, oblivious to everything and I wouldn't have been able to say goodbye." All this stuff was tearing his son up inside. But he needed Wilson to see that she had her reasons and he shouldn't hold that big a grudge.

Wilson wiped his nose. "But this is about if you had made the decision, if you were at his bedside from the beginning."

James thought about it before turning back to him father, "Would I be able to say bye?"

"And whatever else you wanted to say."

This was a bad choice of words for that moment. Wilson would do anything for House because of how much he loved him, and he thought that Jack may have known that even then. Jack taught his sons honesty above all else, so if he asked, this son would tell him just about anything.

Even if it was hard.

"I would have hurt for a while... a long while. But I know I would have done the right thing... I would have done the right thing." Jack patted his son's back.

"He's in pain, but he is coherent now if you want to see him. He wants to see you." And with that, Jack stood.

"You went see him?"

He nodded. "Yes, I thought I should pay the man a visit. I mean, he's been your best friend since med school it seems. Soon enough the man might as well be another son." Wilson absently let out a chuckle. "How's Bonnie?"

"Fine," Wilson sniffed and wiped his eyes. "Pissed at me for leaving her parents' for House... but she's fine."

He nodded. "In that case you should come and stay home until she gets back. It'd be nice to see you. And it would please your mother."

Wilson smiled. "Thanks. I'll be over later."

Jack gave a small nod and left.

_Yep,_ he thought, _Should have been a psychologist_.

--

Wilson quietly walked into the patient room to find House lying back in bed with a pained expression as he fought to keep his cool with all the pain he was currently faced with. House turned at the sound of a sniffle.

"You've been crying." House groaned as his blue eyes caught sight of Wilson's red and puffy ones.

"No, I haven't." he scoffed and tried his best to resist the urge to sniffle again.

House didn't believe him.

"You wanted to see me?" He nodded. "What about?"

"It hurts." He let out in a hushed voice as if he didn't want anyone but Wilson to hear him. Brown eyes stared sadly. "None of the nurses will give me anything more to help with it."

Wilson bit his lip, "So, you want me to help you out?" he asked as he picked up the chart hanging at the end of the bed. The last thing he wanted to do was give him too much of something. House nodded timidly. After he scanned over everything Wilson deemed it okay to gave his aching friend a little more morphine.. and besides, with what he's gone though within the past few days he more than definitely deserved it.

House watched sadly as Wilson pulled out a set of keys and unlocked the control panel for the device controlling how much morphine he was given in his IV, and knocked it up a few more notches. House gave a small smile as he closed the panel back up and turned to him.

After a few minutes it was obvious that House was fighting to stay awake from the morphine and whatever sedative that still lingered in his system. Blue eyes looked up sleepily up at him. Wilson had bit bite the side of his tongue to keep from reacting. He watched as a tongue ran over chapped lips. "What have they done to me, Jimmy?" He asked meekly as he tried desperately to keep his eyes open to watch his friend. "I told them not to."

"Someone made a really bad decision." He answered sadly and absently messed with keys in his hands.

House blinked hard when his eyes tried to roll into the back of his head. Wilson knew it wasn't long until he passed out. "You mean _Stacy_." He corrected.

"Yeah.."

The two of them became quiet for a short while. Wilson had thought House had probably fallen asleep, but when he glanced back up he found that not to be true. "You won't leave me, will you?" he breathed in a hushed whisper. Wilson held back the gasp in his throat. He knew House may not even remember this small bit of conversation for how close he was to falling asleep and how hard he was trying to fight it, but he answered him nonetheless.

"I won't leave you." He replied just as quiet. Without so much as a thought, Wilson leaned in and placed a soft kiss against House's temple. Blue eyes looked up with a small smile before finally settling down to go back to sleep. Wilson sat back down in the chair and let out a sigh as he watched over his sleeping friend.

Back from his trip to the bathroom and with a thoughtful expression, Jack turned from the open doorway of the patient room and made his way down the hall in the direction of the elevator.


	30. A Cane for the Ex Marine's Son

--

_**CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE: **__A Cane for the Ex Marine's Son_

_--_

After the accident it didn't take long for Wilson to get into the habit of paying his friend a visit on his breaks. I guess it paid to have your friend recovering in the same hospital that you worked at. He knew House would appreciate the company (even though he wouldn't dare say it) since Stacy couldn't completely take off work just to sit at her boyfriend's side. And to House, Wilson made a fine substitute.

Currently Wilson was sitting at the end of the bed and telling his friend about what a female patient that day had done to get his attention. Sure, the complements were nice.. but she really didn't have to get completely undressed for a breast exam… especially when he wore a wedding ring.

But just as House was teasing his friend he stopped mid sentence and quickly turned his attention to the door with his eyebrows furrowed suspiciously.

"What's wrong?"

House turned back to him, his expression still apprehensive as he kept glancing back at the door. "Nothing.. I just thought I heard someone." He shrugged it off and continued to tease until he heard it again.

_There's no way he would be here.._

"House?" the oncologist stood from the bed as he kept his questioning stare on his friend.

He suddenly looked scared. "Jimmy, hide me."

"What are you talking about? Hide you how and from who?"

"Just shut the hell up and hide me." He tried to speak calmly, but he couldn't hide that small hint of uncertainty in his voice as he still watched the door. Just as Wilson was about to ask _who_ once again, an older woman with light brown hair with a touch of grey and kind eyes to match curiously peered into the room. When she caught sight of the man lying in bed she smiled warmly.

"Greg, it's so good to see you." She said as she approached the bed. Wilson didn't miss the smile House returned. "How are you feeling?" She asked as she instinctively brushed a hand over his forehead and brushed her fingers against his hair. He didn't fight back.

He gave a small chuckle, "I hurt, but I'm alive." He looked up at her before he seemed to tense up just slightly. "Where's Dad?"

Suddenly Wilson understood House's behavior; why he asked to be hidden at the sound of a voice. He didn't want to see his father. Who could blame him? If Wilson remembered what he was told years back correctly, this man had done quite a number on his friend.

"He's outside talking to your doctor." It was then she looked up and noticed Wilson standing there watching everything curiously.

"Mom, this is Jimmy, a friend of mine. Jimmy, my mother."

Wilson pulled on his most charming smile as he walked to her and shook her hand. "It's nice to meet you, James Wilson."

"And it's nice to finally meet you. Greg's told me quite a bit about you, James." Wilson didn't even try to hide his smile from hearing the news that House talked about him.

"Kindly, I hope?" he turned to House and gave a chuckle.

House shrugged, "You know me; I only say the best."

"Say the best what?" Suddenly House's somewhat cheerful expression left his face as he pulled on a more serious one as an older man walked into the room. Just by the way he moved and how straight he held himself said he was a man of the military.

Wilson was amazed how much this man and his own father, Jack, differed in comparison. Where as you would find Jack standing tall with a hand in his pocket as he shifted his weight from one side to the other while he tried his best to keep in high spirits; John stood as straight as a board; seemingly uncaring. Wilson wasn't sure he had ever seen that good of posture. Jack would have a welcoming expression even as he stood talking to his son as he laid recovering in a hospital. The ex-military man only eyed his son lying in bed.

"When will he be up and walking?" John asked curiously as he stared at his son's bumb leg. House glared.

"Well, we're hoping to have him up by this time next week." Wilson replied positively.

But to John there was nothing positive about it. "Next week?" He spat distastfuly. "Don't baby him! Why, when I was in Nam and was shot in the leg I was back in action four days later!"

"You were shot in the leg! You still had your muscle, they fucking took mine out! There's a big difference!" House growled in his defense. "I'm lucky if I can even still walk."

John didn't seem to agree with a word his son had just said judging by that look in his eyes. "You can walk. When are you going to get over this? Stop milking this and get up and get on with your life. Stop crying."

Immediately not liking the words or tones of John's voice to his son; Wilson stepped in. "I hate to jump into family business, but can we please not do this now? Your son needs to relax. I don't want a fight on my hands here."

"Who's fighting?" John asked sarcastically oblivious, "I'm just trying to get my son to stop being a lazy ass."

Wilson narrowed his eyes and took a step forward. "Sir, I'll assure you. Your son is not a lazy ass, he works hard –"

"Yeah, he works so hard –"

"John, you stop it! Now is not the time for this!" Blythe scolded, "Greg is ill and in the hospital, he needs to relax like the doctor said!"

"Fine." He growled. "I'll be waiting outside." And with that he instinctively made an about-face and left the room.

Blythe made her way back to the bed to comfort her son. "I'm sorry, Sweetheart. I didn't mean for this, I just wanted to see you."

"I know, Mom.. it's not your fault he's an ass." House reassured her as she ran a hand over his forehead. House had no bad feeling toward his mother like he did his father. Where it always seemed like John was putting his down his mother was trying her best to make House feel good about himself.

And with what happened to him he would need all the reassurance he could get.

--

As much as House didn't want it, his parents had made plans to stay in a few days. Though House never really saw much of his father during the visit he was more than happy when the day came for them to head home. Sure, he loved his mother, but if her leaving meant him leaving, well, he didn't mined her going back home.

To House it seemed like forever before a week had finally passed and it was time to try to get up and take a few steps. It wasn't that he was excited to be getting up, no sir.. he was just bored out of his mind. None of this was what he was used to doing. Sure, he would ditch clinic and take a nap in some random longue, that doesn't mean he just wanted to lay around all day and do nothing else! He wanted to move around and run up the halls or down a track. Play a little tennis.

He wanted nothing more than to get out of that bed, but the thought of pain was frightening. The last thing he wanted out of life was pain and wasn't looking forward to the little bit of therapy he would be getting that day.

Turned out that Wilson knew just how to deal with that.

"What's that?" House eyed the piece of equipment that Wilson had just brought into the room with Cuddy walking in right behind him.

Wilson rolled his eyes, "what does it look like?"

"It looks like a walker." Wilson gave a sarcastic smile at his reply. "And why is it in here?"

"Because you're going to try walking today." Cuddy replied in a no nonsense tone. Stacy, who was sitting in her usual position in the chair beside the bed tried to be reassuring, but it didn't work.

House glared at the doctors and the metal frame they drug in with them. "No! I don't care what else I have to do, but I refuse to walk around with a fucking walker! Sorry, no dice!"

"Greg, just take the walker –"

"Get me a damn cane and I'll walk." He glower at his audience and at Stacy for her added comment.

Wilson shook his head, "No, you're going to use the walker. It's safer and you're less likely to fall and hurt yourself."

"I'll fucking hurt you if you tell me what I am and am not going to use." He growled darkly at his friend. Wilson didn't even flinch. "Get me a cane or I'm not walking. I'll spend my whole damn life in a wheelchair!"

"You'd rather spend your life in a while chair than use a walker?" Wilson already knew the answer. House would gladly make everyone's life hell if it meant getting what he wanted.

"I'll make everyone's damn life miserable! I'll go to every damn place that doesn't have wheelchair access and have a fit!" He folded his arms and laid himself back against the pillows and continued to hold that harsh stare at his adversary.

Wilson didn't feel like dealing with all the bullshit. He knew the best way to avoid it was to just give in. "Fine! You want to hurt yourself and fall on your face, so be it! I'll get you your damn cane!" And with that, Wilson turned and left the room. If House wanted to be an ass and demand a cane he wasn't going to stop him. No, he was going to get that cane, give it to him and watch him fall on his face.

The man was a doctor! He himself should know better than to do this. Sometimes Wilson wished that House's pride would learn to take a vacation every now and again. After Wilson acquired a cane he quickly made his way back into the room. Wilson was annoyed with this. Greg House was then only man who could annoy him this much about something so simple.

"Here's your cane!" he held out the cane for him to take it. "You think you can walk with that? Fine, do it! Get up and walk with a fucking cane without falling!" Everyone but House was amazed. Sure, Wilson has been known to fight with House, but it was surprising to see the normally calm and charming doctor barking aggravated at a patient, even if it was House.

The man in question only snatched the cane, his blue eyes narrowed.

"Go on! Get up!"

Neither Cuddy nor Stacy got in between the two. Either one of two thing were going to happen. Either House was going to get up and kill Wilson, or he was going to fall.. and _then_ kill Wilson. Either way he was going to be getting out of the bed.

With a deep breath, House grabbed tight to the cane as he tried to pull himself up. With the help of his left leg he was able to handle it, and right when he managed to convince himself to put some weight on his right leg his knuckles immediately turned white as he clutched the handle tight enough to stop circulation. He disparately tried to fight the urge to bite his tongue or anything else inside his mouth.

The hiss of pain couldn't be helped.

When he was fully upright, his body seemed wobbly and his mind light-headed. He forced himself to take a step toward Wilson. He stood face to face with his brown eyed friend. "There, I'm fucking up. Anything else you want to fucking tell me?" He growled through bared teeth.

Wilson's brown eyes glared back. "Only an ass as stubborn as you would actually manage to get by with a cane this soon."

"I refuse to use a damn walker."

"I know, you told us." Wilson pursed his lips. Sure he was annoyed, but his friend wasn't doing anything particularly annoying at the moment. "Feel like taking a stroll down the hallway with me?" They still had to get him walking.

House took a deep breath and stared at Wilson with a particularly unattractive scowl plaguing his features.

"You know, that was the whole point of this - of you getting up." Blue eyes just stared. "If you're stubborn enough to get up with a cane then you're stubborn enough to walk down the hall. Come on, if you need help, I'll help you."

"I don't need your help." He growled and took a step and tried his best not to cry out in pain.

Wilson nodded. "I know, you never want my help. I'm just letting you know it's there if you _need_ it."

House had never used a cane before. What he hated most was that he was going to have to depend of a piece of wood to get around. That meant that when ever he wanted to get up and go to the kitchen, the bathroom or living room he would need his cane. If he wanted to go outside, get the newspaper, or buy a coffee he would need it. Worst of all, if he wanted to go to work he would need it, if he wanted to talk to a doctor or patient he would need it then, too.

He was going to be pitied by nearly everyone one who looked at him. They were going to think him less of who he is because he needs to depend on a piece of wood to get around. Because of this it also meant that he was going to have to know where this piece of wood was at nearly all times of the day. If not getting anywhere farther than a few feet would be difficult.

He was discharged later that day.

--

"Hey, what's up?" Was the first thing Wilson said after picking up the phone and recognizing the number. He quickly tucked it in the nook of his neck and cradled it to his ear with his shoulder so he could continue his paperwork unhindered.

"I need you to pick me up from rehab."

Brown eyes glanced down at his watch. "I thought it didn't end until four?" He replied simply and kept on working. House's appointment wasn't supposed to end until 4pm.. it was only 3:25.

"Yeah, well –"

"And what about Stacy? Isn't she with you?"

He heard House take a deep breath. "She left me.. right in the middle of rehab..in front of everyone." but before Wilson could even think to get a question out, House started to defend himself. "This guy is a quack! He started on with some bullshit that wasn't going to help me get better! And when I called him on it Stacy walked out on me and called me a selfish ass!"

Wilson dropped his pen and brought a hand up to his face as he pinched the bridge of his nose. For a man who just broke up with his girl he had been with for years he certainly didn't sound too upset about it. "Well, you are a selfish ass."

"I know! And it didn't seem to bother her before!" there was a pause before he continued. "So, can you.. come pick me up?"

Wilson ran a hand down his face. Sure, he was due to do his time in clinic, but he was sure Cuddy would understand him being a little late. "Yeah, sure."

"You know where it is?"

"It's the one on Witherspoon, right?"

"Yeah, and hurry up." He hung up.

Wilson set his desk phone back on the hook and sighed. House was going to be nearly intolerable now that Stacy left him, but with her gone he had no one else. Wilson couldn't turn a blind eye to his friend's need.

He made a promise.. and now he had to keep it.


	31. I Won't Let You Kill Yourself!

--

_**CHAPTER THIRTY: **__I Won't Let You Kill Yourself!_

_--  
_

After that one mishap of a physical therapy appointment House didn't go back for another one. In his own stubborn mind he didn't want to go because he wanted nothing to do with the therapist or his teaching habits as well as being reminded about how Stacy left him in the middle of everything. She was the one who made him this way in the first place; couldn't she at least stay around until it was over?

At first by how lightly House was taking the situation, Wilson thought there was a chance that he knew things weren't as bad as they seemed, like that maybe there was a chance that Stacy would change her mind and come back.

But she didn't.

When a month had gone by with no signs of her rushing back into the doctor's arms reality never seemed harsher than in that moment. Not only was he in constant pain from his leg and would be for most probably the rest of his life (especially if the man kept refusing to go to the physical therapist again) but his girlfriend left him to deal with his own problems. There was an obvious change in House. When Stacy was still around he seemed to still care about his appearance. Even though he would wait a day or two to shave and that sometimes he come to work in just jeans and t-shirt it seemed after she left he didn't care. Everything went to hell. He shaved maybe once a week, and when he _did_ wear a button up shirt it was never tucked in and the world was lucky if it didn't look like it was just pulled out of the bottom of a laundry basket.

It was obvious that he couldn't forgive her, no matter how hard she tried to change his mind. She put her neck on the line to save his life but in the end, to him, it wasn't worth the pain. He couldn't bring himself to forgive her, no matter how much he wanted to, no matter how much he wanted things to go back to how they used to be.. he knew they couldn't. His leg was a constant reminder of that fact.

And so were the keys in his mailbox.

"Here."

A few days after House had found the keys he came to the conclusion he didn't have use for it, even as a spare key (or so that's what he told himself in order to do what he actually wanted) and decided to hand it off to someone who could make use of it. Wilson watched curiously as House pulled an envelope from his back pocket one day and took something out of it and put it on the table before sliding it toward him on the counter top.

He took it.

"Stacy gave me her keys earlier. You're here enough of the time. You keep 'em." The first thing Wilson did after he picked it up was put it on his key ring with his own car, office and house keys.

"You sure?"

House shrugged. "I already have three copies that are sitting in my nightstand drawer. I don't need another one." And with that being said, House didn't even bother to excuse himself as he left the kitchen and went to his room to sleep.

House didn't know how much he would come to regret that decision a week or so later.

--

One Wednesday night after Wilson arrived home from one of the hospital board meetings he was greeted by his loving wife, Bonnie. Normally she would be all hugs and kisses.. but something was amiss. "House left you a strange message earlier." She informed him as she worked on finishing some new recipe that he hoped didn't have ginger in it (by the smell of it, it did. He didn't like ginger that much).

"What he say?" He took the initiative and kissed her cheek.

She shrugged, "I don't know.. it was short. Something about you being a good guy.. or something." She didn't look away from the mess sautéing in the pan. After trying to think of what his friend could have been trying to say, he slipped off his blazer and hung it in the closet along with his brief case and worked on rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt as he made his way to the answering machine.

He pushed play.

"You have one unheard message. Message one, 6:43pm: _Hey, Wilson! It's Greg.._" There was a bit of a pause. There was something strange about his voice, "_Hey, I just wanted to say.. you, well, you're a good guy. Soo.. Yeah._ End of messages." Wilson stood there confused as he stared at the answering machine.

"What?" He shook his head. That was definitely strange. For one, House never tells anyone a complement, and to call and only leave a complement was something in itself. Maybe he was drunk? He sounded a little drunk. Coming to no other conclusion, he picked up the cordless phone off the hook and dialed House's apartment landline.

He was expecting to hear the loud crash of someone banging aimlessly on piano keys (obviously only to scare to caller into not calling back) followed by that tell tail voice saying, "What do you want?"

Wilson had to admit, he was fooled the first time and started to talk to the machine as if he were talking to House, only to be dissuaded by the loud beep that told him his message time had run out. He promptly called back and left another message and informed House that he was an ass.

But this time he didn't get any of that, only ringing. So he tried his cell phone. Again, he had no luck. Without so much as a ring it went straight to voice mail. "You know what to do."

"Greg, it's Wilson, just returning your call. Is everything okay?" he sat there a second before finally hanging up. Something didn't feel right. Normally Wilson wouldn't act on his gut instinct. He liked to have facts and various plausible explanations before he spontaneously acted on something out of the blue. If he had the time he would sit it out and think on what to do, but fearing that something may be wrong; he hung up his better judgment and without even bothering with unrolling his sleeves he grabbed a coat from the closet and slipped it on. "Honey?"

"Yeah?" Bonnie called from the kitchen.

He grabbed his car keys off the hook where he had hung them when he walked in. "I'm going to see what's up, I think something wrong." He didn't even wait for her to answer before he was out the door.

She sighed as she continued to stir the cooking dinner. "Figures. There's _always_ something wrong."

--

It didn't take but a good seven minutes before Wilson pulled his car onto the curb in front of 221 Baker Street. He could see the lights on, so he was still up, or should be. He approached the steps and pulled out his key and unlocked the front door and made his way down the short hall to 221b.

Wilson knocked on the door. "House?"

No answer.

He knocked even harder. "House!" It was then he heard something loud crash and shatter. Quickly he fumbled with his keys to find his newly acquired apartment key and shoved it into the lock. When Wilson opened the door it was the sound of a plastic pill bottle hitting the floor with pills scattering onto the floor caused him to rush in quicker to find House standing in the middle of his living room with a distraught and upset expression as well as a broken glass lamp shattered on the floor with pills littering the floor around him. "Jimmy.. I can't fucking live like this.. Why do you always show up at the wrong time!!" He yelled before falling to his hands and knees with Wilson at his side in a flash.

He tried to help him up, but he refused to get up.

"Why couldn't you have shown up a few minutes later?" He asked in a quiet voice. Wilson had never heard him like this. He sounded as if his spirit had been completely crushed. It was obvious just by looking at him and how he reeked of alcohol that he was trashed.. and he also smelled of vomit.

It was only when he got sight of those blue eyes he saw something was terribly wrong. Though the lights of the apartment were rather dim, those gorgeous blue eyes seemed out of place with those small pinpoint pupils.

Wilson dropped onto knees and crawled over in front of House who was now trying his best to sit up with his back leaning against the coffee table that had been pushed from its normal spot in the living room. Wilson put a hand on either side of his shoulders with House quickly breaking their gaze. "How many did you take?"

He didn't answer; he didn't even look at him.

"Hey! Look at me! How many did you take?!" he grabbed House's chin and forced him to look at him. Those angry blue eyes glared and almost seemed a little unfocused, but he didn't lift a hand to push him away.

"Two."

"Bullshit!" he sneered, "How many did you _really_ take?!"

House still didn't pull away from Wilson firm grip or stare. "Four." Wilson stared a few moments more before finally releasing his hold. The man seemed unwavering enough, save for his drunkenness. Wilson let out a sigh as he sat along side his friend and leaned back until his back touched the coffee table. He knew the table wasn't weighty enough to take his weight without moving. He knew he should do something. He had a choice. Either he could believe his friend, believe that he only took four pills and get him to bed, or he could flat out not believe him and call an ambulance.

Keeping an eye on where his friend was looking, House took advantage of his intruder being deep in thought and slowly started to pick up a few of the pills that were within his reach. He didn't need all of them to do what he wanted to do.. only.. a.. few...

When he had managed to pick up a good few without Wilson noticing, he tried to secretly slip the pills into his mouth.. but without success. Just as he managed to slip the last one past his lips, Wilson had turned and saw what he had done. Without once ounce of self control, Wilson swung back as hard as he could and slapped House upside his face. "You fucking bastard! I'm sitting right here and you're going to try that!?!"

House spat the few pills he had yet swallowed on the floor next to him and nursed his stinging cheek.

He winced at the firm vice-like grip now holding tight to his shoulders. "How many!?" He cried out.

House refused to look at him. He couldn't see the hurt in those brown eyes, but when the doctor got out his pocket flashlight and was practically holding his eye open with his fingers he had no choice.

"How many did you take?!" Wilson tried again, but House wasn't in the mood for this.

"How many is a handful?!" he snarled and pushed Wilson off him. He stayed in his discarded position as he stared bewildered. He didn't know what to do, his friend was trying to obvious kill himself. Was he dreaming? Was this some kind of twisted nightmare? If it was he wished from the bottom of his heart to wake up.

But he didn't. This was real.

"Jimmy.. can't you just pretend you didn't see anything? Just leave and forget you came here?" he asked in a defeated whisper.

He swallowed and shook his head. "I can't, I'm sorry."

House took a deep breath and gave a let it out before giving a saddened nod. "That's what I thought." he got out tiredly and slowly pulled himself to his feet. Wilson was watching him like a hawk.

"Where are you going?" he stood up in time to see House straining to make his way down the hallway.

He didn't turn around, "I need to pee."

"What does it matter?! You've just killed yourself!"

"I'm not dead yet!" And with that, he closed the bathroom door. At first nothing seemed out of the ordinary to Wilson. That was until he heard the bathroom door lock.

No.. he wouldn't..

It took a whole two seconds before he was pounding at the bathroom door. "Hey! Open the door!"

"Fuck off, Wilson!"

"House! Greg! Open this goddamn door right now!!" he ordered but it was no use.

House didn't want to be saved. "Just let me die in fucking peace!!"

Wilson took a deep breath. He had to do something and he had to do it now. Not only was the man heavily drunk (that is, if the nearly empty bottle of Vodka had anything to say about it), but he had already taken at least four Vicodin before he had walked into the apartment. It wouldn't be long for however many more he took to take effect.

"OPEN THIS DOOR OR I'LL DO IT MYSELF!" Wilson warned loudly.

He didn't like the laughter that immediately made it's way out from under the door. "Last I checked you weren't a locksmith, Jimmy."

That was all it took. No longer was Wilson's objective to get House out the bathroom in a calm and civil matter, no. It was get him out of there at all cost. Suddenly frustrated beyond belief, Wilson did the first thing that came to mind. Dressed in a pair of fine leather dress shoes he started to put all the effort he could into kicking the door down with the soles of his shoes.

After a good few solid kicks it was obvious that it was working.

"HEY! You're fucking up my door!! Stop it!"

"You had –"

*BAM!*

"– your chance, House!"

*BAM!!*

"Open –"

*BAM!!!*

"– this goddamn –"

***BAM!***

"– door –"

***BAM!!***

"– and I'll –"

***BAM!!!***

"– stop!!" He called out between his hard kicks at the door.

"What are you doing?!"

"I'm going to get you out of there, that's what!" Wilson took a deep breath and didn't even try to mask the sob that followed. "I won't let you kill yourself!! Not if I can still help you!!" He didn't care if the whole world could hear him, he didn't even care if House's neighbor called the cops on him, he was going to get House out of there alive even if it was the last thing he ever did.

He tried his best to catch his breath and keep hold to any hope he could as he let his tired body slide down the door as he sat on the wood flooring. "Greg, please! All I want is to help you! Just open the door!"

With his head resting against the door he kept trying to catch his breath, but nothing came in return. Not even an insult.

"Greg?" He pressed his ear to the door and strained to hear anything he could but still nothing came in return. "House! Answer me! Say anything!!" When only silence continued to greet him he quickly pulled his tired body up and got a few feet from the door and with all his weight and might rammed the door with his shoulder. When the door didn't open on the first blow he repeated his actions and tried again.

When the door flew open with him tripping and spilling onto the floor in its wake; he was sure he broke his shoulder. He immediately scrambled to the man who tried to seek any refuge he could in a cold empty bathtub. Tired blue eyes looked up at him with pupils even smaller pinpoints than they had been a few minutes before.

Wilson held his shoulder tightly and tried not to think about the pain his hurt shoulder was in. "You're still alive!" He let out relieved sob as he grasped the side of the tub with his bad arm and reached out with the other to take his friend's pulse. House tried to push him away but he was too weak.

Trying desperately to find a pulse, Wilson pressed his fingers to his friend's neck when the vibrations of his voice pulled his attention from his watch. "Jimmy?" A small nervous grin greeted him. "I.." He tried to take a breath but it was no use. "I can't.. breathe.." It was only then he noticed how little House was managing to take in.

It was no where's near enough to sustain him.

"Hold on! I'm going to get help!" He rushed out of the bathroom and into the living room, grabbed his phone out of his discarded coat and rushed back to House.

Those blue eyes were closed and he wasn't breathing.

"No!! Nononononn!! I'm not giving up on you, you idiot! You're not allowed to give up on me either!!" With a flush of adrenaline pumping through out his system, he pulled the unconscious House out of the empty bathtub and onto the cold white tiles of the bathroom floor. He pressed his ear to House's chest and heard nothing. Never in his life had he felt so scared, even as his own brother held him a knife point in his own bedroom; he didn't feel like this. When Wilson finally forced his own self to take a breath, he quickly set to work on doing what ever he could to give his dying friend a chance. He grabbed hold of House's chin and opened his mouth and tilted his head back a bit before pinching his nose and took a deep breath and gave him mouth to mouth.

When that didn't work as well as the first round of chest compressions he grabbed his phone called for assistance and set it to speaker as he continued the chest compressions. "911, what's your emergency?"

"I need an ambulance at 221b Backer Street!" he fought to yell out as he kept fighting.

"What the problem, sir?"

"John Doe, early to mid 40's –" He took a breath and held it as he listened for breathing of any kind before pinching his unconscious friend's nose shut and breathed into him.

"Sir? Wha –"

"He stopped breathing!" He started back with the check compressions, "He overdosed on Vicodin and alcohol! I'm doing CRP –"

"Sir, did you see him take the Vicodin?"

"Yes! I'm a doctor! I know what I'm talking about! Please send help, NOW!" He kept up with the compressions while counting in his head back up to thirty before breathing into him again. "I'm not sure how much longer I can keep this up!!" He cried as he started the compressions again. With each one his shoulder hurt more and more. "House! I swear, if you make it through this I'm going to punch you right in your face when you wake up!!"

To Wilson, it felt like an eternity before helped arrive.

--

Beeping.

Beeping was all he could hear. It was a steady rhythm, a sound he's heard a million times before but for some reason he couldn't place what it was. His mind ran circles until he finally forced himself to open his eyes.

He was in a bed.

In an unfamiliar room with various beeping machines hooked up to him. He felt like he had been hit by a bus. He had been in practically every square inch of PPTH and this place was too poorly decorated to be the hospital be had become so familiar with.

It was the sound of a chair creaking that got his attention. There, standing with a stern look on his face was none other than his savior, James Wilson. What he save him from exactly was in question. Wilson approached the bed. "So you're awake. Good." He pulled that same small pocket flashlight from earlier and flashed it those tired and annoyed eyes.

"Gah, stop that shit." He hissed.

Seeing that the unappreciative man was indeed alright and all there; he got straight down to business. As much as Wilson wanted to be all rainbows and sunshine he wasn't in the mood for it. He was pissed off just as much as House was.

"Be grateful. You're going to be alright. You're lucky that you didn't kill your liver," He put his flashlight away. "I'm sure you already have an idea of what happened while you were out. Your stomach was pumped and you were given charcoal. The paramedics were able to restart your heart with no problem and I had you rushed to Princeton General. Your doctor offered for you to get therapy and recommended a great psychologist, but I know you won't take it anyway. You're currently on a twenty-four hour suicide watch, but I was able to convinced your doctor to discharge you and let you go home only if I'm there keeping an eye on you the whole time." Before House could even object Wilson was on his case, "I don't care how much you hate me right now for doing what I did but I don't want to hear a damn word from you until I'm finished, you got that?"

He nodded.

"I'm doing this as a favor to you, alright? If you start giving me trouble then I'll call an ambulance to bring you to some mental facility where you'll have to spend watch strapped to a bed. Is that what you want?!"

House let out a sigh and shook his head, defeated.

"Good. I'm going to go find your doctor."

Just as Wilson was leaving he reached up to try and support his injured shoulder to hopefully dull the pain any little bit he could. Even right after having his stomach pumped from a Vicodin overdose that nearly killed him, House was still sharp enough to notice.

"What's wrong with your arm?" He got out, his voice raspy and rough.

Wilson stopped in his tracts and turned. "I, uhh, hurt it while trying to get into the bathroom." And with that he left him alone with what little concern House could spare for his injured friend.

--

"Come, on.. I know it's late but I know you're not asleep yet…" Wilson mumbled to himself as he listened to the rings on the phone line as he waited for her to answer.

"Hello?" a woman spoke, her greeting almost masked by her yawn. Maybe she was asleep.

"Cuddy! It's Wilson."

"What's up that's got you calling this late..and calling from Princeton General?" She asked after recalling what she read on the caller ID.

He tried to sound as lighthearted as he could. "Ahh, well, I'm calling to see if you can give House a few sick days off."

"What's wrong? Is it serious?" She yawned again.

"Oh, no, he's fine. I think he has some bug that's been going around the hospital." With his nervousness starting to rile up and show itself he started to pace back and fourth down the quiet hallway. He needed to calm himself down.

"Then why are you calling from the hospital?"

"It's no big deal. While I was helping House out I slipped and hurt my arm, I'm waiting on a doctor to see me now. I'll probably be in a sling for a few weeks, but other than that I should be fine."

"Well, in that case, can't he call me and ask for time off?" He didn't like how curious she was about all this.

He only hoped that she wasn't on to him. "He could, but we both know he won't. You know House, he'd rather come to work sick than waste a day on what they were actually designed for. I thought it would be better to just skip the drama for a change."

"Of course." He let out a chuckle and hoped that she bought his lame excuses. There was a reason he got House admitted to Princeton Gen. under a false name. The last person who needed to know about this was Cuddy. If House lost his job for this then he would have nothing to live for.

There was a bit of silence on her end before she came to her decision.

"Tell House he has tomorrow off and if he needs anymore time have him call me."

"I will, don't worry. Oh! And one more thing…" He paused a second as he tried to think of how to word his question. "Do you think I can take a sick day off tomorrow as well? I mean, I can help House out and made sure he's settled and actually gets the rest he needs –"

"Wilson, I'm sure he can take care of himself. He is a grown man after all."

"I know, it's just.. this may sound stupid, and feel free to laugh, but I was hoping to use that day off to figure out how to go to sleep. See, I'm used to sleeping on my left side.. and well, I can't at the moment. I was hoping to have a day off so I can.. figure that out. The last thing I want to do is come to work exhausted. Please?"

He heard her let out a short laugh. "Dr. Wilson, you don't have to beg me for one of your sick days. What would House think if he saw you?"

"He could tease me relentlessly and never let me hear the end of it." He sighed. He really would.

"As he should. You can take off tomorrow. Just tell House to call me if he can't come in Friday." It was obvious by the sound of her voice that she was trying her best to stifle another yawn.

_Oh, thank god!_ He mouthed. It would have been hard to do a watch over House for twenty-four hours if he had to be at work. "I will, don't worry about a thing, and thank you, Lisa."

"Anytime James. Good night."

"Night." He hung up his phone and set out to find Dr. Stevens. He was sure the nurse told him he was down this way…

--

House tried his best to ignore the fact that Wilson had returned to his room, but it was harder to ignore the man talking to him. "Ah, excellent, you're awake! I take it, Luke, that you're friend has explained what we have arranged?"

At the sound of being referred to as Luke, House shot a questioning look over to Wilson. He got a rather terrible attempt at a wink in return. Wilson had him admitted under a false name to keep his identity secret. It was times like this when House really wanted to thank the man. Anyone else would have rushed him in and promptly told them his name. Not Wilson, even when he was trying to save him from a suicide attempt he was looking out for what he wanted. As much as he wanted to thank him, he couldn't. He had a reputation to keep after all.

Once he was detached from all the various machines that were monitoring him and was given a shirt to put on, House stood shakily from the bed with Wilson immediately handing him his cane, which he quickly snatched. "Dr. Wilson, I want you to keep me informed on what's going on, alright?"

He nodded. "Of course."

"You get some rest, Luke. You should be fine, but if anything else starts bothering you I want you to either tell Dr. Wilson or give me a call on my cell and I'll see what we can do, okay?" He handed him his card. "Now you go get some rest." But before Steven could even get near the door, it seemed that House wasn't finished with him.

"I do have a problem."

Stevens turned to face his patient.

"He fucked up his arm earlier. I want it x-rayed and checked out."

Wilson gave a slightly embarrassed smirk and shrugged as Stevens looked in his direction. "Of course, We'll get it checked out right away. If you two would follow me?" Both men did so with no objections.

--

"Well, doctor, it looks like you fractured your arm." Stevens announced as he took a look at the x-rays sheets against the light box. "It's a very minor injury, only a small fracture in the upper humerus. All your shoulder needs is to be in a sling for two three weeks and it should heal nicely."

Wilson nodded, "Well, that's good to hear."

"I'll get you a sling." But just as Stevens was about to leave he caught sight of House sitting in a chair, his eyes downcast to the floor with his arms folded. "And how are you feeling, Luke?"

"Like shit."

Stevens pulled a sad smile. "Once you get home and get some rest you should be feeling better. You're lucky to have a friend like Dr. Wilson looking out for you." He scoffed under his breath at the doctor's words. "You may not see it now, but I'm sure one day you'll thank him for what he's done." With an appreciative smile from Wilson, Stevens left to fetch a sling for his patient.

After he returned and fitted Wilson with his sling the two were released and allowed to go home. The ride back was a very quiet one. No one even dared to breath a little too loud, much less actually vocalizing a word or two. And what made things worse was that Wilson, even though he knew he did good by many people, he felt like the worst person alive.

He felt if House really was in so much pain mentally and physically that he wanted to end it all.. he should be able to, it would be, in fact, his decision. Shouldn't he honor that like he would anything else House would say or request? Maybe he let his feeling get the better of him. Maybe he was just being selfish. But if being selfish meant keeping House around for a little longer and see that things really could be better, maybe it was for the best.

After being able to talk himself into feeling a little better about his decision he knew a grueling task lay ahead of him. He was to watch his friend and make sure not to let him hurt himself by any means necessary.. One hour down; twenty-three more to go.

He wasn't looking forward to this one bit.


	32. H Watch Part I: Nightmare with a Pistol

--

**_CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE:_**_ House Watch Part I: Nightmare with a Pistol_

--

House made sure to keep his mouth shut as the two of them made their was up the apartment steps and tried his best to ignore the fact that Wilson currently had his free hand on his back and was trying to help him up the steps. He really had no idea what would be in store for him and pondered which closet Wilson was going to lock him up in or which chair he was going to be tied down to for the duration of the twenty-four hour watch. He continued to keep quiet as he watched Wilson struggle with unlocking the door with his less coordinated right hand and pushed it open with House making his way in first.

Again he waited patiently for Wilson to unlock his apartment door before cautiously walking in. At first the events of what happened that night were fuzzy. Sure he could remember drinking and taking the Vicodin.. after that he really couldn't remember what actually went on.

But all it took was one look down the hall at that broken bathroom door and the sounds of Wilson trying to kick down the door echoed from the deep recesses of his mind with him visibly filching with each pound on the door. He continued to stare down the hallway as his mind relayed the sounds of the loud crack and splintering of the wood with the image of Wilson tumbling into the bathroom and onto the floor. He could still remember that scared look in his friend's eyes after he found him in the bathtub.

When he turned around from his position near the front door he found that Wilson had already started to busy himself by getting down on his hands and knees at the floor and was picking up any of the Vicodin that had been left on the floor since before they had left for the hospital. The second thing he noticed was how that sling had been taken off and tossed aside onto the couch as he used both hands for the task of picking up those pills.

"You took off your sling." House pointed out with a harsh tone.

Wilson looked up and let out a light-hearted laugh at the look of House's irritated expression. He was concerned. "I don't have to have it on all the time, really! I just can't do any heavy lifting." But when he looked back at House he only saw those eyes narrow even more so than before. "Oh, come on!" Wilson tried to play like it was no big deal, and to him, it wasn't. "Look, it's hardly an injury! It hurts a little if I work it.. I don't have to explain this to you, you know how this works. And besides, you're the patient here, not me." He went back to his task of gathering the pills and slipping them into the discarded pill bottle he had found amongst them.

He knew Wilson was trying his damnedest to take care of him the best he could. Without a word of encouragement or even a sound of acknowledgment to what he was doing, House pushed the sling away with his cane and laid back on the sofa and stretched out his long aching legs and tried his best to will his pain away and stared tiredly at the ceiling.

When Wilson was finished, he stood and slipped the bottle into his coat pocket before draping it over the back of a wooden chair sitting near the front door. With a stretch of his own weary and tired body, Wilson made his way into the kitchen hopes of finding a broom and dustpan.

When the man was out of view, House quickly and quietly tried to get off the couch but managed to put his right foot down too hard with the sudden jolt making him groan in pain. Lucky for him, Wilson didn't hear. With as much skill as he could muster at that moment, House stood and limped miserably over to the chair Wilson had draped his coat over and reached into the pocket. He smiled when he felt his hand meet with that familiar bottle. He silently pulled the bottle out as carefully as he could so not to let any of the pills knock around inside as he kept it clutched tight in his hand. He hastily hobbled as fast as he could back to the couch and tried to get back on the couch before Wilson could return.

Wilson walked back into the living room with a broom and trashcan right after House was able to sit down. Completely oblivious to his friend's resent secret repossession of the pills, Wilson knelt down as he began to pick of the larger pieces of the broken lamp and dropped them into the trashcan. As he did this, House watched for a few moments before deciding it was time to play his cards.

"You're not doing a good job at making sure I don't get into things I shouldn't." House pointed out as he rolled the amber pill bottle around in his hand. "If I wanted I could take all these pills and land us right back at the hospital."

Wilson glanced up and glared as folded his arms while he made no attempt to get up from his position of picking up glass. "What makes you think I would save you a second time?"

Aggravated blue eyes stared at him a moment before he gave a spiteful smile. "Let's face it, Jimmy, You're just too kind. You'd never let me die.. so long as you can still save me."

"There's only so many time I can save you."

House sneered as his hand quickly tightened around the bottle he had been holding, "Why don't you get the hell outta here you fucking prick! Stop trying to save someone who doesn't want to be saved!" He snapped, "Stop trying to be the hero!" he looked at the bottle in his hand, and with a rage that suddenly hit him and reminded him of why he even considered the idea of suicide in the first place, he pulled off the top of the bottle and poured the white tablets into his hand.

With a sudden look of uneasiness appearing on his face, Wilson watched as House played with the handful of Vicodin. He knew he should shoot up and slap the said pills right out of his suicidal friend's hand, but he also wanted to trust that he wouldn't try anything. "I'm not trying to be the hero; I'm just trying to help my friend. Don't you under stand that?"

But it was obvious that he wasn't listening. "You don't give a damn about me; you just want to look like the caring friend who'll stop at nothing to make sure his friend his safe! You don't care if I want to live or die; if I can really still take anymore or not!!"

"You..! I should just leave you hear to die! Lord knows you don't care about me or anyone else for that matter!!" Wilson immediately stopped himself and tightly shut his eyes as he took a deep breath and made himself calm down before speaking again, "But I won't. You… you can say whatever you want to me. I'm not going anywhere, House! I'm not like Stacy! I'm not going to run away because you've said some mean things to me!"

Wilson pulled himself to his full height and took a few steps to the couch, his arms still folded.

"Now, give me the pills or else you will regret even thinking of taking the bottle in the first place." The way Wilson stood with one arm still in its folded position as he reached out with his left, his palm opened and waiting for House to do as he was ordered; it was easy to see that he was in no mood for this risky game of chicken.

There was a look of defiance was burning in those blue eyes as he pondered what Wilson would do if he quickly downed the pills in one swift motion. Knowing he most probably would come to regret what he had done if he didn't comply; House tilted his hand as he calmly and carefully poured the pills back into the bottle before he unexpectedly hurled it hard across the room with it colliding loudly against the wall.

Wilson didn't even flinch; much to House's disappointment.

He glared at his brown eyed friend and watched as Wilson took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh, staring back. "Why don't you go to bed and let me clean? You look exhausted."

"Cause I am." He muttered and pulled his eyes to the mess of glass and few pills that Wilson had currently missed still on the floor. He didn't blame Wilson for not seeing them, the place was a wreck and they were scattered about with broken glass of the same color.

He really did leave the apartment in total disarray.. he knew it was probably driving Wilson mad and it really wasn't the best place to be for someone who just hours before tried to commit suicide. There were just so many hazardous things around. Just by the fact that Wilson hadn't had him locked in his own bedroom while he cleaned showed what great deal of trust he had in him. As much as House still vaguely wanted to do the unthinkable, he didn't want to betray that trust.

Wilson was all he had left after all.

With a quiet grunt, House stood from the couch and took a few steps toward the coffee table. "Can I have this?" He asked as he carefully bent over with a hiss of pain and picked up a stray forgotten Vicodin off the floor. Wilson watched him closely with narrowed eyes. "My leg hurts." He supplied as he absently rubbed at his thigh.

"I'm supposed to be monitoring your doses."

"You are; that's why I'm asking! Can I have this?" he repeated.

"Yes, I don't know what good it will do you, though. You most probably still have the Naloxone in your system. It'll probably just block it out. Why not take some aspirin or Tylenol?"

"Because Tylenol doesn't come close to helping anything." And with that he popped the pill into his mouth and gestured for Wilson to pass him his bottle of water he had gotten earlier while still at the hospital from the table. Still rather new to the whole Vicodin regiment, House wasn't quite used to dry-swallowing pills just yet. Wilson did as he was so quietly asked with House gulping down the remaining amount of water. "I'm gonna go to bed." He knew Wilson was dying to clean the place up and he also knew the TV would have nothing on but infomercials that would untimely end up putting him to sleep anyway.

He swore he still smelled vomit.

Carefully, he struggled with his limp as he made his way into the direction of the hall, "Do you need some help?" Wilson asked softly. It was obvious he was trying to be helpful without stepping on the toes of a man trying his hardest to hold onto whatever independence he presently still had left. Stopped in his current position, House turned and looked over at him and was greeted by those heartbrokenly sad brown eyes. House was sure he recognized that same look from long ago.

Without a word he turned back to his task and staggered as he used the wall for balance and made his way into his dark room.

Fortunately for Wilson, House didn't hear the hushed sob that escaped past his lips as he turned and went back to work at cleaning the glass from the floor.

--

When House finally did wake up later that afternoon, everything seemed pretty normal. That is, until he noticed the man asleep in that simple wooden chair that had been sitting by the front door hours earlier. After a good long hard full body stretch, House let out a yawn and grabbed a pillow off the bed and threw it at the sleeping man. He was pleased with himself when Wilson nearly fell out of that said chair.

"Gah! What was that for?" Wilson asked as he worked to calm his surprised body and tried not to feel like he had jumped out of his own skin.

He was only met with those annoyed blue eyes. "What are you doing in here?"

He watched as Wilson took another deep breath before tossing the pillow back onto the bed. "I was watching –"

"Me sleep? That's on the border lines of being reeeeally creepy, Jimmy."

He rolled his eyes as he let out a sigh, "I was keeping an eye on you; I'm not your stalker or anything of the like."

House couldn't stop that playful Cheshire cat grin from growing on his face. "You just want to get in this bed and snuggle up close to me, don'cha, Jimmy?"

"What?! No! I was doing what I was told to do! I'm making sure you're safe! Now, what do you want for breakfast?"

"It's no problem, really, I understand completely. Who wouldn't want to be in bed with such a dashingly handsome doctor such as myself? This ole bed _is_ big enough.." he trailed off as he turn his attention to the bed he was currently lying in.

"Hah!" Wilson barked in return at the absurdity of what he had just heard come out of that man's mouth. "And to think you tried to kill yourself only hours before."

"Hey! I don't hate myself!" He corrected, "I hate the situation I'm in."

Wilson nodded before continuing where he had left off before, "Now you didn't answer my question, you want breakfast?"

"No." He shook his head and yawned again.

Wilson on the other hand gave a nod before standing from the chair. "I cleaned the apartment while you were sleeping. It's safe for you now, not that you would try anything I'm sure." He put his hands on his side before leaning back and cracking his sore back. He should have known better than to sleep in that chair. His neck was sore, too.

--

Still dressed in a t-shirt and pajama pants from when he woke up, House stared blankly into the living room as he stood gripping his can in the hall doorway. Everything looked so… clean. He was sure in all his years of living there he had never seen everything as spotless as it was. In a strange sense it was absolutely amazing. He was pleased that the smell of vomit had been replaced with a fresh crisp smell of bleach and lemons. He turned around and glanced down the hall and into the bathroom. Though the broken door still hung on it's hinges, the splintered pieces of wood that had broken off were picked up and thrown out.

With a bit of curiosity mixed with having to urinate, House turned and limped down the hall with his cane and into the bathroom. Never had his bathroom seemed so blindingly white. He was even more surprised to see that the dark and dingy grout that Stacy had tried her damndest to clean in the past with no luck sparkled just as brightly as he had probably when it was freshly laid.

"Good job, Wilson!" He called loudly down the hall and to where ever Wilson was currently hiding. At first it sounded like he was actually complementing his friend's work until he opened his mouth and continued. "Cause of you I can't close my bathroom door! What am I supposed to do? What if I'm pee shy? I wouldn't be able to take a piss!"

"You're not pee shy," Wilson returned from where he suspected was the kitchen. "you use the men's room!"

The man shook his head and leaned his cane against the wall as he worked on relieving himself. "Yeah, but what if I was?" Wilson didn't reply this time. Once finished, House washed his hand, grabbed his cane and made his way down the hall and back into the living room. He was actually afraid to see the kitchen.

Deciding that seeing the bathroom as clean as it was was indeed all the shock he needed at the moment, he carefully lowered himself onto the couch and stretched his legs out and propped his feet up onto the freshly cleaned coffee table. He eyed a burning candle sitting on the table before he finally grabbed the remote and turned on the TV.

It wasn't long before Wilson appeared in the kitchen doorway drying off his wet hands with a dishtowel. He sighed as he watched his friend from the open doorway. House looked sad sitting there and staring at the TV. He wondered to himself if he was really even watching it.

"Is there anyway I can make you happy?" Wilson asked with those sad eyes. House merely looked at him for a moment. There were many things this man could do to make him happy, and not all of them had a fun or happy ending.

House didn't answer him; he couldn't. He couldn't even look at him when he had that look of utter sorrow in his eyes. It always reminded him too much of what he had given up those few years ago. He only turned his attention back to the TV.

"Hey, what do you want for dinner tonight?" he asked as he stood with his arms folded and his feet shoulder width apart. One of Wilson's favorite poses. "It doesn't matter, whatever you want I'll make it for you."

House sat there a moment in thought before he glared. "Shut up, Wilson. I don't have any food in the kitchen for you to even cook with, and it's not like you can leave and get something unless you take me with you. I don't think you letting suicidal me run around into the real world will get you much kudos." He turned back to the TV.

"So? I'll call a few of the local markets. I'm sure there are a few that still deliver."

And just to be nasty, he gave the first answer that came to mind. "I want lobster."

"Yeah?"

House turned to his friend with a skeptical look. "You'd actually cook me a lobster?"

"Heh, sure." Wilson replied with a shrug, "They're pretty easy to prepare. They only cost as much as they do because of what the fishermen go through to catch the thing, not on level of difficulty of preparing it. So, you want lobster?"

He shook his head. "No.." he kept his eyes low before finally turning back to Wilson. "Can you make stew? Like, a beef stew?"

He nodded. "Sure, if that's what you want."

"Yeah." Just as Wilson had turned to head back into the kitchen, the sound of House's voice caused him to turn back to the direction of the living room. "There is something you can do that will make me happy." He finally answered.

Wilson arched his brows as he waited for him to finish.

"Where's your sling? The doctor gave it to you for a reason." With a sigh loud enough for House to hear it from the couch, Wilson did as he was told by walking into the living room and retrieving the blue and white sling from the door handle of the closet and slipped it on as he retreated back to the kitchen to make a list of what he needed for dinner.

Meanwhile the only thing House did was ease his sore legs off of the coffee table before pulling them back up onto the couch as he stretched out. He felt like going back to sleep.

--

_Everything was dark._

_Completely dark._

_Black._

_He could hear something. _

_Crying._

_He knew that voice.. it was Wilson. _

_Suddenly the black darkness started to fade away and blend into a lighter one, a white one. It didn't take long before he knew where he was. He was in his bathroom. But why was he here?_

_It didn't take him long to figure it out. _

_There was Wilson cradling what looked to be his limp lifeless body and was crying. _

_Not knowing what was going on, House quickly reached up and touched his face, his shoulders and chest. He seemed solid enough.. if that was the case.. what in the world was he looking at? He couldn't be in two places at once..! Or could he? He turned around and took note of the bathroom door. _

_It wasn't broken._

_He reached out to touch it, but his hand went straight through it. With a deep breath and hard swallow, he turned back to the scene before him. _

_"You f-fucking, idiot.." Wilson tried to speak amidst his tears, "I should have n-never l-let you out of my sight." House wasn't sure if he had ever heard a more heartbreaking sound before in his life. He could feel his own heart seize up in pain as he tried to hold back his own set of tears. _

_He didn't know how long Wilson stayed with him before someone came looking for him. Strangely enough, it was Jack. When the son caught sight of his father he broke down and confessed to him, sounding not to unlike a child about his love for his departed friend as he clung desperately to his motionless friend's frame._

_"I know." _

_It took work, but he watched as the father pulled his son off the floor and out of the bathroom._

_Like a film he watched helplessly as from that point on as Wilson's life fell apart. He watched as his marriage fell though once again, how he tried to put his everything he had left into his work and patients. He watched for what felt like forever. It was like he was watching a depressing movie of a man's life that went straight down hill no matter how hard he tried to play like nothing was wrong. _

_He was hurting. The man lost his only friend. Sure like he said once, he had acquaintances, but that didn't truly make them friends. Even when he would chat with Cuddy the conversation was never as lively or exciting as if when he was with House, it was nothing but small talk or actually about the devil himself._

_He watched this horrific movie as Wilson after work one day made his way to a pawnshop and purchased a small pistol. Right when he saw the money exchange hands he knew what was going to happen. He knew what the man was planning. It was like a train wreck that he simply couldn't turn away from no matter how much he wanted to. It was almost as if someone was holding his eyes open for him. He just wanted this nightmare to end before anything happened, before he had to see what his sick and dark imagination had to show him. _

_It didn't happen right away. It seemed to take time before the man could grab up enough courage to do it, and when that time came House pleaded in his mind to any just god or gods that may have been listening for him not to see this. As much as he wanted to believe that Wilson's life would completely fall apart if anything were to happen to him he didn't need to see the man blow his brains out just to get the point across. _

_He made his decision that he was going to try, even if it was just for Wilson and no one else._

_He stared in horror as Wilson sat in a lonely hotel room situated behind some cheap desk as he stared at the gun that sat on the cold wooden desk top. The man couldn't seem to pull his eyes away from the gun. He stared at it for what felt like an eternity. _

_When he finally did pick it up, House felt a shiver shoot deep throughout his whole body and down his spine. This just wasn't right; he couldn't just stand by and let this happen. The man closed his eyes as a tears streamed down his face as he placed the muzzle of the pistol to his temple. _

_He could see the man's lips were moving, and could hear him whispering but couldn't decipher what was being was being said. It wasn't until he was standing at the desk and straining to hear before he could make sense of what was being said. _

_It was Hebrew. He was praying. _

_House didn't know whether he was praying for his God's forgiveness on what he was about to do or praying for safe travels into the next life or even praying about happier times. All he knew was that he was praying._

_"Wilson, please… don't do this." House whispered._

_Halfway though the prayer he cocked the gun and kept it to his temple._

_"Jimmy, please!" He begged, but it was no use.. he couldn't hear him. House knew the prayer was coming to an end by how Wilson had to force himself to speak the few remaining words. And with tears still streaking his face the prayer came to an end._

_He pulled the trigger._

--

House let out a loud gasp as he shot up from his sleeping position on the couch and back to reality at the feeling of someone shaking him awake. When scared blue eyes were open and focused on the world around him, he was greeted with a pair of brown concerned ones. "Are you alright?" Wilson asked concerned as he adjusted his sling's strap higher on his shoulder as he took a seat on the very edge of the couch that House wasn't taking up. House let his body fall back against the cushions as he held a hand over his eyes while his heart pounded.

"You..!" He quickly pulled his hand away and stared angrily at the man sitting next to him at the same time he worked on catching his breath and trying his damnedest not to let his emotions get the better of him. He refused to break down and cry in front of Wilson, not now, not again. "You are not allowed to own a gun! _Ever_!" he informed as he continued to catch his breath, His heart was racing and he hoped in time he would come to forget this terrible nightmare like he did every other one he had. He turned his attention back to Wilson and pointed a threatening finger at him, "I swear if I ever see you with a gun I will throw it in a fucking river!" he tried to fan himself off a little. He was drenched in sweat.

Wilson stared bewildered. "Huh? What's wrong? Did, did you have a bad dream?" House didn't answer, only held a hand to his chest has he tried to school his breathing back to normal and covered his eyes once again with his hand. "What was it?"

He shook his head. "It was nothing." He waved him off, "Forget about it." He took another deep breath and closed his eyes tight before slowly pulling his hand away again. "How long was I asleep? Feels like I've been out for days."

Wilson eyed his friend suspiciously but didn't try to push the subject. If he wanted to talk about it he would soon enough. "A few hours. I don't think I've ever seen you sleep that hard, though. I mean, you didn't even budge when the boy delivering the groceries from the market was pounding on the door. Normally you'd wake up at even the tiniest misstep."

House took a hard swallow before finally sitting back up bringing his face only a few inches from Wilson's and nodded.

"I didn't want to wake you, I mean, I'm sure you've been needing a good sleep!" he got out nervously at House's proximity, those blue eyes peering deeply into his. "I mean, have.. have you thought of using ear plugs when you sleep?" his words were jittery and panicky as his voice cracked from his nervousness; it was easy to see how tense he suddenly was.

House pulled himself away and Wilson quickly stood when House pulled his legs off the couch and onto the floor. "Then I wouldn't be able to hear anything."

"That's the point." He relayed as he made his way toward the kitchen. "Dinner's ready, you want me to fix you some?"

House wasn't hungry. At that moment he didn't was to even think about eating ever again. Not after that dream. But he nodded anyway. He knew Wilson worked hard on dinner; the least he could do was force himself to eat some of it. In reality he hadn't eaten since the day before.

And it did smell good.

_Sixteen hours down, eight more to go._


End file.
